Next, Please
by Moonlight Silhouette
Summary: It's summertime in NYC. The sidewalk's hot, the coffee's hot. The stupid, sexy, smirking guy who always sits with a coffee and a newspaper, and has a gorgeous body with an accent to die for, is totally hot. And, apparently, he knows Susannah's secret.
1. Read the nametag, buddy

**A.N - Yay, new story! I've thrown the fact that I wanted to be more mature with my writing out the window and came up with this. xD**

**Hope you like.**

**This is for Emily, who has disappeared on me, AGAIN. She came online long enough to approve of the title though. Thank you, Millie.**

**Disclaimer: Meg Cabot is the proud owner of everything. This story isn't meant to infr****inge on anybody's rights, merely to entertain. Hopefully.**

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One

_"**Nice try. Read the nametag, buddy."**_

The man was practically a stalker, I decided. He was here _every day_. And it always seemed to be on _my_ shift.

So what if he was tall, tanned and so unbelievably good-looking that I found myself picturing him modelling for Calvin Klein? Who cared if his stupid, long, dark hair curled adorably at the nape of his neck and the fashionable – probably designer – clothes he wore fit his body to perfection?

Not me. And, do you know why? Because he was _always_ here, making more work for me.

"Big smile, sugar." My boss reminded me, handing me a pot of coffee and pushing me lightly towards the weird stalker guy. "Remember to be nice."

Forgoing a response, I pasted a smile on my face and pushed my red-streaked, straightened hair back away from my face. Stalker dude smirked into his newspaper as I approached. I felt my eyes narrow at him. "More coffee?" I asked, faking a happy tone.

"Please." Gah. Even his voice was sexy. It was deep, husky and laced with an accented undertone that hinted at Hispanic roots. He gestured towards his empty coffee cup.

"Anything else?" I poured the black coffee generously into the cup. How anybody could drink such a hot beverage in such heat was beyond me. New York in the summertime could be such a drag. Sometimes, during my break, I took a trip to the fridge, just to cool down.

"How about a name?" He set down his newspaper and regarded me interestedly, one deliciously sexy eyebrow rising on his forehead.

"Nice try," I scoffed, wiping my sweaty hand on the apron that came with my uniform. "Read the nametag, buddy."

Smirking again, he looked at me pointedly before his eyes slid down towards my nametag, which I realised, too late, was close to somewhere I did not want him looking. I crossed my arms quickly, watching with fascination as the mystery guy's cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. He obviously had never been that forward before.

"Suze," he managed to choke out from a closed throat. "Short for anything?"

"Nothing that you're going to find out." I turned and walked away from him, not wanting to listen to anything else he had to say.

"I'm Jesse," he shouted after me. "By the way."

"Not interested."

_Liar_. I scolded myself. I was so interested it wasn't even funny. I mean, look at him. Who wouldn't be? This guy – Jesse – was practically perfect in every way. Undeniably gorgeous, for one. Accent to die for, for another. A body so toned I could picture the six-pack this guy must have underneath his shirt. And, let's just say that I wasn't altogether upset with the picture my mind conjured up.

Reaching the counter, I sighed heavily and put down the pot of fluid, pulling out my hand-dandy notebook and pencil at the same time. "Do I have to go back over there?" I, I'll admit it, whined. "Can't I send someone else?"

"Sorry, darling." My boss was sympathetic, sure, but she didn't do anything to placate me. "It's in your section."

"I have a feeling that he knows that."

My boss chuckled and sent me off with a wave as she turned her attention to another customer. Gritting my teeth, I pushed my lips back into a smile and tapped my pencil against the empty page in front of me. My polyester uniform was sticking to my back as I walked through the thick, humid air towards the recent bane of my existence, who was bent over his precious copy of the New York Post. "Made a decision yet?" I asked.

"Actually," he smiled at me, revealing his perfect white teeth. It was a million times better then the smirk he'd been gracing me with. "I have. Your name is Susannah."

I froze, my earlier fear of this guy being a stalker increasing tenfold as the pencil I'd been pushing against the paper slipped and left an angry looking gash across the page. I felt my eyes widen as I looked at him.

He must have realised what had gotten me so skittish as his cheeks turned crimson again and he glanced down at the newspaper he was holding. "No, no." He insisted. "It's not like that. I swear."

Okay, I freaked even more. Apparently this guy is a mind reader as well.

"After you left," he explained. "I started trying to figure out what 'Suze' could be short for. See?"

He pushed the paper towards me and I looked down at it, hesitantly. On the page was written _Susie? Suzanne? Susannah?_ among others. The guy had been busy, it seemed. My name, though, had been underlined twice, and circled, obviously having been the decision he made.

"Am I right?" He added in a somewhat shy tone.

"Oh." I suppose that that was better then my first thought. "So," I pushed, ignoring his question. "Food?"

"If I order," he insisted, instantly back into his cocky demeanour. "Will you give me your number?"

I smiled widely at him – I was an expert at leading people along. In the two years since my mom had jetted across the country to marry Andy in California, I'd changed. Becoming more confident as boys _finally_ started to notice me. My best friend Gina had helped there, of course. "If you order," I dropped my voice to a whisper, leaning in close to his ear. "I'll give you your food."

Smirking, I stepped back and regarded him coolly. He chuckled.

"Touché." He shook his head. "I had that coming. But, _Susannah_, I would like to see you again." He smiled up at me, reaching out a hand to take my own. "Outside of this café."

With my free hand, I touched my chest in an, 'aww, I'm touched' gesture, smiling. Really, it was obvious. I don't know how he didn't see it coming.

"I want to know more about you," he continued, obviously thinking he had won me over. I resisted the urge to scoff. He stood up, leaning towards me. His proximity had my breath catching in my throat and my heartbeat racing so quickly it was embarrassing. "I want to know your deepest, darkest secrets."

I gasped, slipping my hand from his grip and sliding it to his chest, pushing him away slightly as I looked up into his deep, dark brown eyes. With my other, I grabbed the cup of – thankfully now cold – coffee I had poured for him earlier. Smiling widely, I batted my eyelashes and raised the cup above his blissfully oblivious head.

"Really?" I asked, feigning breathlessness.

A lazy "mmhmm" had been my only reply and I stood on my tiptoes, waiting until our lips were a hairbreadth apart before I spoke again.

"Tough."

Then, in his dazed state, I pushed him away and poured the full cup of cold liquid over his head, the small droplets matting his hair and trickling across his forehead and down his neck. His white shirt stained brown as a small puddle of coffee formed at his feet.

The café in which I worked – hopefully, I still worked there, after this – went silent. Jesse stood there, arms out in shock as he processed the feel of cold coffee on his skin. I felt a bubble of laughter rise in my chest.

"Susannah Simon!" The laughter was abruptly cut short before it came to life by the loud shouting of my immediate superior, causing me to wince. "Clean that up, now!"

Turning my back on the scene I'd caused and ignoring the looks from the other customers, I walked towards the supply closet. "Gladly," I muttered under my breath.

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It wasn't surprising to see that Jesse 'I'm so sure of myself I can pester you for your name and number but can't handle a little bit of coffee' had left. On his table was his empty coffee cup and newspaper. Seeing my name scrawled around the ink, I glanced at the item that had been annoying me all day.

I groaned as I read what was written on the newspaper. A note, to me.

_Susannah. Now I have your last name too. I'll be seeing you around. Jesse._

Rolling my eyes at myself, I began cleaning up the mess I made. "You just _had_ to pour the coffee on him Suze," I chastised myself. "Idiot."


	2. I just like you, okay?

**A.N - Ok, so I realised as I was writing this chapter, just how quickly Jesse and Suze were moving and how quickly Suze's feelings changed. I did go back and address it briefly but I like how it is. This is just where I want them to be. I hope you guys all agree.**

**And, I can't believe how well that first chapter did. I love the responses you guys have. It really makes writing worthwile. I love you all. xD**

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Two

_"**I am not a stalker. I just like you, okay?"**_

Jesse – formerly known as creepy stalker guy – didn't return to the café, I noticed. Not for the rest of the day, at least. It was a bit strange. I kept expecting to look up and see him at his booth, cup of coffee in hand, chewing the tip of his pen as he pondered over his crossword conundrum.

To see the booth empty – or even worse – someone else sitting there, was slightly weird, to say the least.

There was a stain on the floor from where his coffee had been dumped. My boss, thankfully, hadn't seen it yet. I'd scrubbed and scoured at that floor, piling every type of detergent that we had in the cupboard on it – so much so that I was surprised we hadn't closed down due to all of the poisonous fumes floating around.

The note he'd left in his newspaper had been ripped out, folded and was now kept safely in my pocket. I found myself re-reading it every hour or so before I realised what I was doing and mentally kicked myself. But it didn't stop me.

There was just something about him that intrigued me. His accent, for one, whilst being totally heart stopping, wasn't from New York, that was for sure. So, that begged the question, just what was he doing here? And what did it have to do with _me_?

"And I am out of here." My hands fell forward onto the cashier desk, before I untied my apron and threw it over the divide from the eating space to the kitchen and hoped it landed in the box I was aiming for. It didn't.

"Go hang it up, change out of your uniform," my boss scolded, lightly tapping the side of my head. "Clean down the tables. _Then_ you can leave."

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes before mumbling under my breath. "Slave driver woman."

"I heard that!"

I poked my head out behind the door and looked at her, smiling. "You weren't meant to." I justified. "I would have said it louder if I didn't need this job so badly for college."

"You're lucky I like you, Suze Simon." My boss smiled at me, the lines at the corner of her eyes crinkling as the smile spread shakily across her face. I beamed back and went to follow her commands, more then ready to leave this place as fast as I could.

I changed quickly, my finger finding the note from Jesse that had been burning in my pocket all day. I pulled it out, reading the words once again. Each time I read it, it sent a thrill through me. I couldn't decide if that was good or not. And I didn't really want to ponder upon that thought for very long, afraid of what the answer might be. Shaking my head, I shoved the note deep down in my jeans pocket, hoping to forget about him, and went back out to wipe down the tables.

Only, when I got out there, a single red rose lay on a table. _The_ table. _Jesse's_ table.

Cautiously, I approached it, as if the thorns were lethal to me. A card lay next to the flower, my name written in calligraphic handwriting – handwriting that matched that of one Jesse 'I'm too cool to have a last name'.

"Ooh," another waitress, two years older than me, waltzed over dreamily. "Looks like you've got an admirer. Who do you think it is?"

"Umm," I hesitated, humouring her. "I'm not sure."

"Well," she sighed. "I guess it can't be that totally hot guy you threw coffee over earlier. No one can like you after you soak them in cold coffee. It's, like, a fact of life or something."

Rolling my eyes, I quickly wiped down the table and called out my goodbyes before leaving the café. I hadn't walked more than five steps, my gaze focused on the rose I held between my fingers, before I ran into someone – a very male someone, judging by the muscles in his arms and the firmness of his chest.

"Watch it!" I shouted at the guy, stumbling before his hands came up to rest on my bare arms – the heated New York evening had made me think it would be better not to wear a jacket. His hands were warm and _big -_ they almost curled around my whole upper arm.

"You're the one whose gaze wasn't on where you were going." Wait a second; I knew that voice. I glanced up at the familiar smiling features of the man in front of me, his eyes boring down into mine as he spoke his next words. "You were too busy looking at the rose I left you."

I pulled out of his grasp, lightly so as not to offend him. "Geez," I slapped his arm lightly. "You really are a stalker."

Jesse's cheeks were pink as he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Not really. After you very kindly gave me a cup of coffee," I winced. "I went home, got changed and hung around until I noticed that people were leaving. That's when I left the rose on the table."

"'Hung around.'" I quoted. "Hah! That makes you a stalker. Hanging around in the shadows."

He fell into step beside me. "Susannah," he sighed. "I am not a stalker. I just like you, okay?"

I held up the rose. "That's obvious." Stopping my movement, I turned to look up at him, taking his hand and holding it lightly, my fingers winding with his own. "Thank you, by the way."

He smiled, genuinely, his mouth stretching handsomely across his chiselled chin before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "You, _querida_," he whispered. "Are more then welcome."

I turned my head away, smiling and fighting off a blush. I was Suze Simon, New York Girl born and bred. I do not _blush_. I have red streaks in my hair, my eyeliner was heaped on by the pencil-load and I cannot live without my black biker jacket. Boys do not make me _smile_. "So," I untangled our fingers and crossed my arms over my chest, beginning an effort to change the conversation as I began walking away again, quickly. "You live here?"

"Well," agitated, he ran his hand through his curly hair, still wet from the shower he must have had to get rid of that pesky coffee. "Not really. I'm … visiting."

Noticing his hesitation, I raised my eyebrow. "So, you're staying in a hotel?"

"Not exactly," he let out a whoosh of breath. "I'm renting an apartment."

"Long visit."

He quickly stepped in front of me, halting my progress once again as his arms came to loop around my waist and pull me towards him. And, can I just take the time to say, he smelled _good_. Like, really, _really _good. "I'm hoping so." He replied.

I remained silent, staring up at his gorgeous face, eyes dark enough to blend in with the night, had we not been standing under the streetlight.

I'm not sure how long we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms. His hands rested lightly on my waist, never dipping any lower than could be deemed indecent. Mine had risen to lock behind his neck. As a result, we were frozen in a lover's embrace, neither of us wanting to make the first move and just force our lips together for the first time.

"Go out with me tomorrow night?" He muttered into my hair, his cheek burning next to my own as his fingers softly drew circles on the area of skin my top had ridden up to expose. The touch had my skin tingling in excitement. I couldn't believe that I had only met this man today. Things were moving so quickly, but I wouldn't change it at all. Not even the tiniest bit.

"On one condition," I promised, lips brushing against his ear.

"Anything."

My eyes were sparkling with delight as I pulled back and pressed my lips lightly and quickly against his own. "I choose the place."

He smiled and nodded, before swooping down to capture my lips in his own once again.


	3. What is it with you and drinks?

**A.N - Okay, this chapter was a lot better in my head. Hope you guys like it anyway.**

**Sorry for the slight delay. :)**

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**Three**

"**What is it with you and throwing drinks over me?"**

"Here we are!" I screamed to be heard over the loud, pulsing music vibrating from the speakers. Glancing back at Jesse over my shoulder, I smiled at him and his flustered expression. It was obvious that the poor guy had never been to a place like this before.

This club was one of my favourites, even if they did demand I.D from everyone who walked past those doors. Not only that, but they stamped everyone under the age of twenty-one, just so the bartenders _knew_ not to serve them alcohol. I rubbed at the stamp on the back of my hand, the fresh ink still glistening underneath the flashing coloured lights as I tried to smudge it.

Stubbornly, it refused to even blur.

I sighed as I rolled my eyes to see if Jesse was having the same trouble but his hands were stamp free. That was a welcome surprise.

"Want a drink?" Jesse's voice was lost in the thrashing beats.

"What?" My voice was louder than his had been.

"I said do you want a drink?"

"Oh," I smiled sweetly. "Sure. Anything alcoholic."

He raised an eyebrow at the stamp I'd been covering with my other hand before nodding and walking to the bar.

This was my payback. He'd gotten me in trouble with my boss over the whole coffee thing and then he made me go against everything Gina had ever taught me about playing hard to get and making the boy come to you.

Although, I suppose, this boy – I mean man. He is over twenty-one after all – has kind of been stalking me for weeks beforehand. If that's not him coming to me then I don't know what is …

Either way, my revenge was making him come to a place that was completely over his head.

I glanced around the crowded club, wondering where Jesse had disappeared to, before jumping when someone rested their hand on my arm.

"Hey!" I pulled back harshly, jerking my arm back and whirling around to glare at the person. It was Jesse. And his shirt was damp with my drink poured all over it, forcing it to stick to his chest much like it had when coffee had been poured over his head. "Oh, sorry, Jesse."

"What is it with you and throwing drinks over me?" He demanded, his joke holding just a hint of anger.

"I'm sorry!" I felt my face flushing as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing his tanned, sculpted body to the attention of every female in the club – available or not.

"It's ok," he smirked, pulling his t-shirt back down, covering his abs up once again as he left his over-shirt on the stool behind him. "It's good to know you have reflexes like that. I don't have to worry about you getting in trouble."

He pressed his lips against my temple.

Pulling away, I noticed a lull in the music and grabbed his hand. "Dance with me!" I called back over my shoulder.

"It seems like I have no choice." He called back, laughing as we found a space on the dancefloor and he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I guess you don't," I whispered into his ear. "Are you ready for this?"

"Ready for –" His confused voice cut off as the music began, as loud as ever, and I began to dance against him. "_Díos_."

Laughing, I turned in his arms, arching my back towards him as I lifted my hands in the air and slowly began moving. His hands tightened on my waist almost possessively and it sent a thrill rushing through me. I tilted my head to look back at him, seeing the harsh glint in his eyes as he stared at various people around the room and the frustration written all over his face.

I opened my mouth minutely, leaning up towards Jesse in an invitation, which he didn't hesitate to take up on. His lips covered mine furiously as his hand rose from my hips to cup the back of my head and he leaned in further.

I loved his kisses. So, _so_ much. It was just Jesse all over - forward but with a shyness that was endearing. His kisses made you want to stay with him, if only to get them on a regular basis. Of course, his looks, accent and intelligence helped too. I'm not completely shallow.

The moment was broken when I felt myself pulled backwards by another man. I didn't even get a glance at his face before Jesse was barking at the stranger to "Back off."

Smiling up at Jesse, I fluttered my eyelashes and adopted a swooning pose. "My hero."

But Jesse didn't look impressed, instead his hand tangled with my own and he directed me back towards our original table where he picked up his wet shirt and shoved it around my shoulders.

"We're getting you out of here," he insisted. "I can't believe I let you bring me here in the first place." He cursed in Spanish under his breath.

I glared up at him. Honestly! Men could be so fickle!

"Hey, Jesse," I accused, lashing out to hide my hurt. It kind of sounded like he was regretting our date and that couldn't happen, if only because I'd had one of the best nights of my life. "I only agreed to a date if I could choose the place. We leave and this date is over."

He didn't even think about his answer. "Fine." The word stung as he directed me towards the door and pushed me out into the cooler night air. And, not that I'd admit it to he-who-ruins-perfectly-good-dates, it felt nice to be away from the constricting club. "Now button up that shirt."

Glancing down at the shirt – which just about reached the hem of my skirt – I rolled my eyes as I understood what he was doing. Apparently, he thought my black mini-skirt, green halter neck combo was too revealing. I crossed my arms purposefully over my chest and regarded him with a sceptical look.

"I swear, Susannah…" Jesse trailed off, refusing to finish his sentence and keeping his gaze on the floor even as he buttoned up the shirt for me and nodded appreciatively at my covered state. He reached out to wrap his arm around my waist. "The things you do."

I twisted out of his grip, and walked ahead of him. "Date's over, remember?" I called without looking back. "I'll find my own way home."

The wind whipped gently at my freshly streaked chestnut hair, the red shining in the streetlight. I had spent ages at the mirror with my straightening iron before I left, to get it perfectly straight before my date. And do you know what I got for my efforts? Nothing. Not even one little compliment.

Okay, so I got one of the best kisses I'd ever gotten before in my life.

But that was it. My drink even ended up _on_ my date.

"Hey, Susannah, don't be like this." Jesse jogged up alongside me. "I'm sorry, okay. It's just ... you shouldn't be spending time in places like that."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a big girl, Jesse. I can do what I want."

"I know." He sounded genuine as we rounded the corner to my apartment block and he fixed me with a blinding smile. "Well, thank you for a lovely evening."

My eyebrow rose in amusement. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"Goodnight." He pressed his lips against my cheek, lingering on my skin as I felt my skin begin to heat up once again. There was just something about this guy that was addictive. But, I mean, look at him.

Who _wouldn't_ be craving Jesse de Silva?

"Goodnight," I whispered back, my hand lightly running up his chest, trying to rake his shirt upwards and reveal that body I'd learned to love to my gaze.

Chuckling, he tangled his fingers in my own and brought my hand up to his mouth where he pressed a soft kiss against it and shook his head before he let go, my hand falling limply back down to my side as Jesse walked away, still laughing silently to himself.

"Sweet dreams."


	4. A redate, it's a noun

**A.N - Okay, just a little fluff because it's what I really need to write right now. I knew there was a reason I loved the summer holidays - namely, no school.**

**I hope you can find something to say about this chapter, at least. I wanted a nice fun time before the plot twist next chapter. xD**

**Dedicated to Bunnylass - my new agony aunt who suggested I update this fic. Hope you like it. :)**

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**Four**

"**A re-date. It's a noun."**

Thanks to Jesse, I'd had the worst night sleep in my entire life. He'd left me last night with nothing but a trace of his lips against my knuckles and two. Freaking. Words.

"_Sweet dreams."_

Pah! I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling whilst listening to the soft snore of my roommate and just thinking about every other way the night could have ended. My scenarios ranged from U – a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Jesse's a gentleman that way – through to a pretty serious PG-13 make out. Nothing worse – it was only our first date after all.

And, now, I had to drag myself out of bed at an ungodly hour – seriously, who wants coffee and pancakes at nine a.m? I don't get hungry until at least noon. You know, like a normal person. Ignoring, of course, that I tend to sleep until eleven thirty, most days – and go to work. A situation made all the worse with the knowledge that I'd only begun drifting into a faint sleep as the first light of the day filtered in through the window.

"Good morning, sugar." I winced at my boss' peppy tone. No one could be excited when I was tired; it made my head hurt. "Oh, rough night?"

"No," I sighed as I tied the apron around my waist and pulled my hair away from my face. "Tame night. It was practically a stroll in the park." I turned my head, looking over my shoulder to see if Jesse was here. He wasn't. "I just couldn't sleep last night."

She raised a knowing eyebrow before she shooed me out of the kitchen to make me work, ignoring my protests.

"I don't know how any of your permanent employees put up with this treatment," I joked. "I'm glad this is only a summer job."

Dodging the swat she sent my way, I smiled and turned to look at the tables I had to serve. There weren't many and the ones that I did have had barely anybody at them. It looked like I was having a lazy day then.

Pasting my ever-so-friendly, ever-so-fake smile on my face, I turned to my first customer, repeating my mantra over and over in my head as she failed to decide on what she wanted – iced tea, or water.

_Big smile_, I thought. _Big tips. Big smile, big tips._

The door opened with a ding, the bell helpfully telling me that another customer had entered the café. I couldn't keep the hope from flaring in my chest. Watching from my peripheral vision, I saw an obviously masculine blur walk towards _Jesse's_ booth and sit down. I felt my anger growing. That was Jesse's table, and no one else could sit there. Where would Jesse sit?

"You know what?" I turned to my customer, smile in place, as I talked to her. "I think we're all out of iced tea. I can go and get you some water though?"

"Oh," the woman said, looking as ecstatic as she would if I'd told her she'd just won a lot of money. "That would be lovely, thank you."

I kept the smile on my face until I turned away, before it slid off my face instantly and I rolled my eyes, mimicking the woman's words.

A snort of repressed laughter came from my left and I stopped short, twisting my head to glare at whoever was laughing at me. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed when I saw no one but a young mom with a baby, two elderly men reading the newspaper and a head of dark curly hair bent over another newspaper, none of which seemed prone to laughing at people. Flipping my ponytail over my shoulder, I walked towards the counter.

"Water." The word was harsh as it rolled off my tongue, accompanied with the angry ripping of paper from my jotter pad, containing the orders of other customers.

Smiling, my boss placed the bottle down in front of me softly, glancing at something over my shoulder. "Well, that's got to be a new record …" she started, laughter tugging at her lips.

"You've been working for, oh, I'd say, about ten minutes?" I froze at the sound of the familiar masculine voice and stared at the hand he'd gently wrapped around my wrist. "And already you're annoyed."

I could tell that the smile on my face was huge as I twirled around and threw my arms around Jesse's neck, feeling his own twine around my waist as a response. "Jesse!" I cried, stepping away from the warmth of his arms as I looked up at his unbelievably handsome face.

You know that there are some guys, who look good far away, but then you get closer and you can see that their eyes have bags underneath, their lips are chapped beyond repair and their nose hair is trimmed non-too-neatly? Well, Jesse isn't like that. Up close, you could see his piercing brown gaze, blinding white teeth as he smiled his easy grin, as well as each individual curl as they twisted and coiled adorably behind his ears, at his forehead and at his neck.

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh," his lips perked up, dimples forming just below his cheeks as his eyes twinkled with mirth. "Long enough to know not to order iced tea. Apparently you're all out."

Grinning, I shrugged and brandished my pencil at him as a mock-weapon. "You tell anybody and I'll attack you with my lucky pencil."

Jesse's mouth fell open in horror, putting his hands up in surrender and taking a step away from me. "No, not the pencil!"

With an affirmning nod, I waved the pencil at him once again. "It's your choice."

He pretended to think about it for long, agonising seconds until the point when my stern face was close to cracking up with laughter and breaking the moment. "Okay," he gave in, tilting his head to the right in a sexy way. "You win. My lips are sealed."

Unable to stop myself, my eyes were drawn to the before mentioned lips. They were full and soft looking and I was aching to kiss them. I took a step closer, angling my head and licking my own. His eyes lit up, a glint appearing as he brought his head down to meet mine.

I rested my hands against his chest, sighing as I stepped away before we could make contact and regretting the choice instantly.

"Jesse," I began, leaning against the counter to put some distance between us. "I'm sorry about last night. It was … horrible. I shouldn't have behaved that way."

He wrinkled his nose as he regarded me with a raised eyebrow. "And how did you behave, querida?"

Gah. That word. _Querida_. I love it when he calls me that. I have no idea what it means, but still.

"Slutty," I rolled my eyes as I waved my hand. "Out of control, a tease. Take your pick."

His confusion didn't ease. "Susannah, you weren't –"

"I want a re-date." I blurted it out before I could help myself, shutting my eyes and willing a giant hole to swallow me up immediately afterwards.

"A what?" His voice sounded amused. That was good, right?

"A re-date." I opened my eyes and looked at him cautiously, scared at the expression I might find on his face. "It's a noun." I informed. "I swear, if you look it up in the dictionary, it's right there."

He arched a sceptical eyebrow.

"Okay," I pouted. "Maybe not."

Laughing, he wrapped his arms around my waist once again and pecked my lips affectionately with his own. "A re-date, huh?"

I nodded as I felt his lips move to press against my forehead, my breath catching in my throat as he did so.

"I already have it planned." He grinned at me, ignoring the look of utter mortification on my face. "Be ready by eight."


	5. I think I want this dictionary of yours

**A.N - Hey guys, hope you're still with me. I'm sorry for the delay, it may be like this for a while until I can settle a routine around my homework. At the moment I'm trying to update as much as possible on the weekends.**

**Look out for A Pirate's Life For Her sometime soon. I know I kinda left you guys hanging on that one.**

* * *

**Five**

"_**I think I want to borrow this dictionary of yours."**_

Okay, I'm woman enough to admit it. My date sucked. Jesse's ruled. End of.

I mean, when a guy shows up ten minutes early he's a bit too eager. On time and he's punctual and boring. Five minutes late and he couldn't care less about taking you anywhere.

But two minutes early – knowing this because I was ready a full ten minutes ago, a feat I'm actually quite proud of – holding a trio of pink roses and with a massive smile spread across his face, bouncing on his toes excitedly. That's when you know a guy likes you.

"Hey," I greeted him, stepping out the apartment and closing the door quietly to not wake up my roommate. "How's it going?"

"Better now." He murmured, a blush lightly tingeing his cheeks as he realised what he said. He handed over the flowers and kissed my cheek lightly. "Ready to go?"

Nodding quickly, I reached out my hand to entwine with his and smiled up at him.

He smiled back, his white teeth gleaming in the shoddy apartment lighting, making him look gorgeous. Like he ever didn't.

Yeah, three minutes in and Jesse's date has well surpassed my own. I should let him do this more often.

* * *

"Jesse!" I complained, stumbling in the darkness and feeling a thrill of something rush through me when he reached a hand out to my hip to steady me. "Are we there yet?"

His deep chuckle somewhere behind me forced a smile to break out across my face as his fingers lightly trailed my stomach. "Almost, _querida_." And damn if him saying that word didn't make my heart jump.

I heard the heavy creak of a door screeching open and the whip of cool air in my hair and on my face. Turning to look at him, I felt his strong fingers grasp my chin and push my face back in its original direction.

"Jesse," I warned, crossing my arms expectantly. He laughed again and removed the blindfold – seriously, a _blindfold_, Happy Second Date Suze, let's take away your vision! – before covering up my eyes with his hand instead. He froze in anticipation for my response; I refused to give him what he expected.

Instead of yelling, whining or complaining, I turned my head to the left so my lips were level with the inside of his wrist, and placed an intimate kiss on his pulse point. In response, he twisted me towards him, removing his hand from my eyes and placing it on my waist before leaning in and languidly kissing me; my legs felt unstable and I leaned into him for support.

"Jesse?" I whispered to him, my lips against his own whilst my breath visibly remained between us.

"Yes, _querida_?"

Cue the jumping heart.

"Can I please see now?"

He nodded, kissing me quickly again before spinning me around, directing my attention to the breathtaking sight in front of me.

I swear I could see the whole of New York. There was a glitter of apartment lights, little golden squares settled in amongst big, dark looming buildings that fought with each other to be the centre of attention.

"Wow." The word left my lips without my realising it.

"There's more." Jesse tugged my hand and led me to another area of the roof we were stood on.

He was right. In front of me now was a large red-and-white checked blanket, a few large candles set delicately in the middle, atop a mirror that reflected the dancing flames, and a picnic hamper set off to the side, practically bulging with its contents.

"Jesse!" I exclaimed, running up to him and wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. "This is … perfect!"

He smiled at me and sat down on the blanket, gesturing with a quirk of his eyebrow for me to join him. I wasted absolutely no time whatsoever in sitting down and snuggling up to his side. Cold New York night; warm, cuddly potential boyfriend; one girl without a jacket. Do the math.

His arm came to wrap possessively around my shoulders and pull me into him, placing a kiss on my temple as he offered me a drink. Closing my eyes, I nodded and accepted the glass from him.

"So," he began deeply, his voice rumbling in his chest and sending shivers through me. To which, of course, he pulled me towards him even more, figuring I was cold. "This is a re-date, huh?"

"Mmhmm," I mumbled, too content to form proper sentences. "In the dictionary." I repeated, opening my eyes and smiling at him, staring into his dark brown eyes. " 'The best second date ever with the best, most gorgeous guy'."

"You know what? I think I want to borrow this dictionary of yours."

Giggling, I slapped him lightly on his chest. "Nuh-uh." I teased. "It's mine. The only way you get it is if you can convince me that you really, _really _want it."

"Convince you?" His eyebrow twitched again in that ever-so adorable way. "And how do you propose I go about that?"

I twisted my face into a serious thinking expression before kissing his nose and jumping up. "Surprise me."

* * *

A girl could become seriously addicted to his kisses. Not that I was willing to let any other girl come close to them within the next few months or so, but still. Just thought I'd share. As it was, we were having an unbelievably difficult time trying to say goodnight.

Each time I began to turn and go into my apartment, he'd pull me back to him and each time he began to leave, he only got a few steps before I ran after him.

I don't know what it is about him, but he's changed me. Susannah Simon never acts like this around a guy. Not even if he's the underwear-model, Orlando Bloom kind of hot. Which Jesse so surpassed.

"Really," I muttered, not meaning a word. "We should go. It's after midnight."

"I know," he nodded, sighed and pulled back, only our hands remaining in contact. "I know." He stared down at our entwined fingers and smiled wryly. "We should really say goodnight."

Smiling, I kissed his lips affectionately and whispered "goodnight" before jerking my hands away from him whilst he was still dazed.

"Sorry," I shrugged. "The only way I could do it."

"Well," his smile turned into a smirk. "This is how I say goodbye …"

He leaned in, shortening the distance between our lips as his hands came up to wrap in my hair.

"No touching." I told him as he came closer.

"Alright."

His hands lay flat on the door behind me as his lips crashed against my own. My fingers furled and unfurled themselves at my side, itching to touch him but knowing it wouldn't help. We were both breathless when we pulled apart.

"Goodnight." He whispered.

Laughing again, I gently pushed him away and opened my door, looking over my shoulder quickly to see him stop and look over his shoulder at me. Waving, I blushed as he blew me a kiss and ducked into my apartment.

He had to be some sort of voodoo witch doctor. He'd changed me completely. And I wasn't entirely sure I hated it.

"When you're done sucking face, Suze," a masculine voice interrupted my thoughts and I recognised it instantly, following the source of the sound to clash with the crystal clear cerulean eyes of Paul Slater. "There's someone in there asking for you."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed the floor quickly and entered the kitchen, expecting … Well, I wasn't sure whom I was expecting. Either way, I couldn't have been further from the truth.

A teenaged boy stood in front of me. He looked about nineteen with dark messy blonde hair and the look of a guy who had a serious attitude problem. He was also glowing.

"Are you sure he asked for _me_?" I asked Paul exasperatedly.

Paul smirked. "He asked for the mediator." He shrugged and leant in the doorway, crossing his arms. "I'm the shifter. You know that."


	6. How can I help you?

**A.N - Sorry for the wait. Circumstances beyond my control. And, thanks to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday last week, and to everyone who reviewed Moondancing Millie's brithday poem for me. I really appreciate it. Just what I needed. :)**

**And, if you haven't read it, go and check it out. It is _très amusant_. Hehe.**

* * *

**Six**

"**How can I help you?"**

He was slowly driving me mad. Seriously. Every time I tried to peacefully shut my eyes and imagine him gone – poof, just like that – he would do or say _something_ to make me snap. Which, of course, gained me some weird looks. You know, considering the guy tormenting me is kind of invisible.

"Your butt looks big in that skirt," the ghost drawled, checking his nails idly.

My mouth fell open in dismay as I dropped my hands to my little apron, cheeks blushing dark red. "It does not!"

"I know," he chuckled. "But indignation looks cute on you."

Oh yeah, a _literary_ ghost.

"And another thing," he drawled, jumping up on the counter behind me and flicking my hair into my eyes. Annoyed, I blew it out of the way again. "What's a dead guy got to do around here to get a drink?" He jumped over the counter and stood in front of one of my colleagues. "Hello?"

"Sit down," I hissed in his direction, gaining a weird look from my co-worker. I smiled and shrugged at her as if to say 'what can ya do?' before glaring at the ghost. "Look," I told him. "I've tried to help you, and you won't tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you don't tell me why you're still here!"

The ghost shrugged, the blue shirt covering his shoulders glowing ethereally.

"Aargh," I growled, the word escape me in a huff and gaining the attention of practically everybody in the café. The doorbell jingled above the door. "How can I help you?" My voice rose in anger.

"Whoa," I heard a familiar voice tease from behind me, and I turned exasperatedly to see Jesse, grinning and looking more gorgeous than anybody should ever be able to be by law. Sheesh, Jesse De Silva is like a sin. "Now that's service."

My face cracked with a wide smile as I saw him and ran over, throwing my arms around his neck as I did so. I was so lucky to have this guy. Enjoying the envious glares I got from other female patrons – from girls with their boyfriends, to long-ago jaded spinsters – I smiled into Jesse's neck. Yeah, I was damn lucky.

"How's your day been?" He mumbled.

"Better now."

"Oh, yuck." The ghost chimed in from behind me. I, unpredictably, chose to ignore him. "Sure, ignore me. I can see how even a mediator would prefer her sexy snuggle bunny."

My cheeks burned as he said that, grateful that only I could hear him, and Jesse couldn't see my face. I glanced up at Jesse to find his eyes narrowed at something over my shoulder, and I followed his gaze to figure out what had gotten him angry. All I could see was the ghost – name unknown, he had decided to annoy me by not telling me it. And, can I just say, it worked? – and it was obvious that Jesse couldn't see him, so I shrugged it off.

My lips found the side of his smooth, tanned cheek, and I pressed them to the skin quickly as his lips found my throat. I pride myself on being able to form the very coherent thought: _Mmm, Jesse lips._

"I missed you," I whispered with a smile, pulling away and straightening my skirt, ignoring the various degrees of murderous looks girls were throwing my way, Well, okay. I wasn't ignoring them. In fact, they made me feel pretty darn good. "Where've you been?"

Laughing, he pointed at the clock over my shoulder, and released me so I could look. "Sleeping," he told me, his arm brushing over my shoulder to point out the little hand pointing at the number ten. Shivers raced down my spine at his proximity. "Only abnormal people like you are up any earlier."

I laughed, the sound audibly forced as the ghost spoke what I was thinking.

"If only he knew just how abnormal you are, hey, Suze?"

Jesse's grip tightened on my arm in response, shocking me. It was almost as if he could hear the ever-so-engaging conversation this ghost had to offer. But that was ridiculous. The only other mediator I'd ever met was Paul, and even then he refused to acknowledge it – giving himself the title 'shifter' instead.

"I missed you too, querida." Jesse muttered, stepping away and taking his seat in his booth; the very one that I found myself being purposefully rude to anyone who sat there that wasn't him. That was _Jesse's_ booth. Maybe I should invest in some velvet roping for him.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A coffee?" He smiled at me then; a gorgeous, full-toothed smile that you just know would have come complete with a cartoon 'ding', had Jesse been animated. How could I say no? Especially since, you know, it was kind of my job to say yes.

Technicalities.

Smiling and nodding, I turned to get his order – and the several others that had piled up during our reunion after all of twelve hours. Well, what can I say? I need my daily dose of Jesse-goodness. The ghost followed me, streaming off comments in my ear.

"You know, I'm almost certain that that guy of yours was looking straight at me." He reeled. "Is there something I should know?"

I saw Jesse tense in my peripheral vision. Man, he must really need coffee in the morning.

Rolling my eyes at the ghost, I hissed at him. Discretely, of course. Can't have Jesse thinking that I'm a lunatic. "Don't be so silly," I told him, my voice dripping with venom. "You were standing behind me; he was looking at _me_. Jesse can't see you."

"Whatever," the ghost grumbled, showing his distaste for being admonished. "Hey, here comes the other one of you."

I froze. He could only mean one person, and Paul never visited me at work. Ever.

"Paul!" The ghost waved, confirming my suspicions. "Over here."

Paul smiled in response and strode towards me purposefully before he reached me, and took me in his arms. Struggling, I tried to pull out of his grasp. "Paul," I growled. "Get off me! What are you doing here?"

I was fully aware that this would be my _second_ public scene in all of five minutes.

"Aww," he responded. "I just came by to say hello. Can't I even do that?"

Behind him, I saw Jesse get up and walk towards me, fury and a glint of what I could only assume was jealousy in his eyes. "Is there a problem here?" Jesse's voice was normally way too sexy to resist but now was not the time. I looked over at him with wide eyes, pleading with him to leave.

I was ignored. Jesse's hand clamped down on Paul's shoulder when nothing was done about my release. In fact, Paul's arms dropped to my waist, and pulled me even closer towards him. He narrowed his eyes at Jesse, recognising his voice from last night.

"I'm going to have to ask you to kindly get the _hell_ off my girlfriend." My eyes widened at language I'd never heard from Jesse before. However wrong it may be, it was kind of hot. "Before I do something I'll regret." Jesse voice was tense, his fists clenched at his sides whilst the rest of the café stared on in excitement. Great, now we were giving the paying customers a show.

Paul's eyes turned to lock with mine, glinting with humour before his lips twisted into a smirk. "Your girlfriend?" His blue orbs clashed with Jesse's furious brown ones. "I think you may have gotten the wrong girl, Suze and I have been going steady since High School."

Yeah, like all of two months ago. Besides, we so broke up way before then.

Jesse faltered, turning to look at me insecurely, confusion fluttering across his face.

"Now," Paul continued, brushing Jesse away with a single wave of his hands. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going to greet my girlfriend properly."

And without waiting for a reply and cutting off my protest before I could even give it life, Paul's familiar lips slid over my own whilst Jesse stood, fuming with silent anger that was second only to the intense look of humiliated confusion written on his face, watching us silently.


	7. You passed, by the way

**A.N - I am not this chapter's greatest fan. It feels forced. Certain parts I found fun, but overall. Meh.**

**It needed an update. And, surprise! I now have a plan for the direction of the story! Yay!**

* * *

**Seven**

_"**You passed, by the way."**_

My hands grasped at Paul's shoulder, ready to push the leech away – maybe knee him where it hurts, that depends on how much longer he is determined to make me kiss him. Which, you know, _ew_ – and apologise profusely to the person I hoped was still my boyfriend.

I could feel Paul's shirt as I dug my fingernails deep into his shoulder and Paul removed his mouth from mine – finally – with a gasp and a glare. Shrugging, I watched in horror as Paul was jerked backwards by a tanned hand clamping down on his shoulder. He was whirled around, only to find a fist awaiting him, and Paul's hand flew to his nose quickly, tears of pain pooling in his eyes.

"What the fuck was that for?" Paul demanded angrily, glaring at Jesse who was stood looking nonchalant. But, boy, did he make nonchalance hot.

"I told you," he spoke calmly. "To get away from her."

"And I told you, amigo," Paul insisted, standing up and advancing on the bored-looking man eagerly. "That she's my girlfriend."

"But I'm not, Paul." I interfered. They were about to start tearing into each other, and my boss was already looking at me disappointedly. This job went towards my college fund people! If either of them really cared about me, they'd take it outside. "So, please, leave Jesse alone."

Grumbling, Paul clenched his fists and stepped back, his cold, blue eyes narrowed threateningly at Jesse. Leading Paul over to the counter, Jesse followed us naturally, unwilling to leave me alone with Paul. I wonder if he realises we live together. But it's best not to mention that.

"What did you do that for, Paul?" I crossed my arms, staring at him whilst the ghost - who had yet to enlighten me with a name – stood laughing at the whole scene behind us.

"Dude, that was classic!" He guffawed, falling on deaf ears. "You should have seen that Spanish dude's face!"

"Well?" I prompted.

"I wanted to see if he was good enough for you," Paul shifted guiltily. "How good his protective instincts were." Distractedly rubbing his nose, avoiding the tender red spot that Jesse had left in his wake, he called back over to Jesse. "You passed, by the way."

Jesse looked around the café, uninterested. "Good to know."

My eyes found him and the picture he made, all buff, annoyed and protective. At the risk of sounding like a total Romance novel, my hero. Jesse could so be one of the models on those books, by the way. I could picture it now: shirt open, showing off rippling abs; long curly hair tied sexily at the nape of his neck whilst a girl – ahem, _me_ – leaned delicately into his chest, arms resting flat on his stomach as I stared up at him with imploring eyes …

I snapped back, blushing at the sight of Jesse's amused gaze fixed on me intently. Turning my head back to Paul, I found him smirking at me knowingly. Sheesh, even the ghost was laughing at me! Is there anyone that can't read my mind?

"Suze, sugar," my boss called out to me. "When you're done with the daydream, order's up." Due to her suggestive wink, I'd say that no was the answer to my question.

Flustered, I spoke tiredly to Paul. "What are you doing here anyway? You never visit me at work."

Paul's face was masked into a look of shock as he stepped towards me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. An arm, I hasten to mention, that he instantly removed at Jesse's warning step forward. "I am shocked." He spoke slowly. "Deeply horrified that you assume I didn't drop by to see how you were."

I rolled my eyes.

"Get to the point, Paul." I could so see straight through him - metaphorically, of course. If I could literally see through him, it would be a little weird. Although, it could be good to be able to see through Jesse's clothes … "I have to get back to work."

"Fine." He relented, jerking his head minutely backwards in a gesture towards the ghost, who I'm pretty sure I should just call Mr. Ghostman, considering he won't give either Paul or myself a name. "I came to see if anything was bothering you, Susie."

Surprisingly, Jesse and I spoke at the same time.

"My name isn't Susie!"

"Her name is not Susie!"

I looked at him with a smile on my face and held out my hand to him. He was at my side in an instant, his warm fingers wrapped with my own as he kissed my temple, eyes refusing to leave Paul's face.

"No," I turned to Paul. "Nothing is bothering me. It's ok now, you can go." I shrugged. "I have work to do."

My tips were slowly dwindling every extra minute I made people wait for this little _tête-à-tête_ to be over with. Goodbye TV license. Well, I suppose it's for the best. My nights will be homework-filled. Come September, I'll have no time to waste with television.

"And maybe," I continued, squeezing Jesse's hand and smiling at him before staring pointedly over Paul's shoulder. "Could you …?"

"Yeah." Paul rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll leave you and your snuggle bunny alone."

My eyes widened at Mr. Ghostman's words coming from Paul's mouth – it meant he'd been around longer than I thought. And that Jesse had now heard the snuggle bunny comment. My cheeks flamed.

Reaching behind him, Paul picked up a napkin, and surreptitiously catching hold of Mr. Ghostman's t-shirt at the same time before he began to pull the ghost out of the café.

"Alright, alright!" He objected. Paul didn't relent his grip. "Hey, push off!"

The ghost shoved Paul forward, brushing down his shirt as Paul came flying towards me. Jesse intervened – stepping in front of me and catching Paul's shirt in his one hand before we all ended up on the floor. With his other hand, Jesse caught the ghost and glared at him for causing the trouble.

"James," Jesse spoke in a low voice, to my amazement, to the ghost. "Apologise."

"But I didn't –"

"James."

"Fine. Sorry."

But my attention was no longer on Mr. Ghostman – apparently called James. Jesse could see ghosts too? He was a mediator? And, hey! He didn't tell me. I narrowed my eyes at him, even as my boss angrily shouted my name and gestured frantically to the piling orders – filled with cold food after all of this.

"I'm coming!"

Glancing at Paul, I gestured to James with my hand. "You two, go." They followed my instruction without a word, sensing the belying anger in my words. "Jesse," I turned on him, seeing his cheeks faintly pink as he realised what he'd revealed. "You stay. We need to talk."


	8. You kind of brought this upon yourself

**A.N - So, yeah. I apologise for the delay and all. When the Christmas holidays come, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get a good chunk out of everything finished. But until then, there's various exams, homeworks, rehearsals. Etc.**

**Huge thanks to anyone who is still with me. Hope you like.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"**You kind of brought this upon yourself."**

He'd regressed back to stalker-mode. Seriously, since we first met we'd been on two dates, kissed – like, a lot – and even had our first fight. Which was kind of kicking us in the rear about now. But his eyes stayed locked on my every movement.

It's creepy. In a 'damn-that-sexy-guy-watching-me' way.

Well, it's not like I could abandon my job altogether. I'd already given them a free show earlier and, besides, I was this close to being fired and I need the money for educational purposes.

So, by the time my shift had finished, the diner had emptied, the sky was turning a deep purple and Jesse had ordered at least five black coffees (no sugar).

"Ok," I shrugged into the seat opposite. "Talk."

He sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

Many things that are too inappropriate for the conversation at hand, to be perfectly honest. Things like: I love you, will you marry me? Sure, I'm kind of jumping the gun a bit but, yeah. A girl can dream.

"How long have you known?"

Uncomfortable, Jesse raised his long slender fingers and scratched at the back of his neck.

"You mean, you've known," I leaned in closer to him. "All this time?"

His eyes darted from mine to my lips and back again. I smiled maliciously. _Uh, yeah right, amigo._

"Well, yeah," he swallowed and I followed the tilt of his throat as he did so before glancing back up at him through my eyelashes. Yeah, I was playing dirty and using my feminine wiles. I'm not going to just let him win this one. He needs to suffer. "I actually come from Carmel. There's someone back there who thought he could help you, but you never turned up. He sent me to look after you. To help teach you how to use your …" he trailed off, glancing over each shoulder before leaning in and brushing his lips against mine as he spoke his next word. "… Gift."

No, Suze, I told myself. Ignore those shivers he just sent up your spine!

"So…" I paused, wrapping my mind around what he'd told me. "What you're saying is … that … you were … sent after me?"

I felt my heart clench at the thought. He was just using me? For this 'someone' who thought I needed help? My fist clenched even whilst I sent a smile fluttering in Jesse's direction.

"Exactly!" He smiled, not realising what I had.

Oh Jesse. Poor, stupid, oblivious Jesse.

You are so going to pay.

"All of this?" I gestured around us at the empty diner, where the workers were all studiously trying to not eavesdrop. "All of it was planned?"

A look of horror slowly spread over his face.

"All of it?" I repeated, my voice going embarrassingly high. "You and me? Us? We were _planned_?!"

I stood up, tears blurring my vision. Ugh. This sucked. I went against every rule I'd ever had for behaving around boys. Most importantly, do not cry. Do not show them you're weak.

Jesse's hand clasped over my arm. "Suze, no, wait," he pleaded. "You've got it wrong!"

Yanking my arm back into my own possession, I glared at him. "Oh really?" I questioned. "So you weren't sent here to get close to me by some random stranger I've never met?"

"He's not a stranger!" Jesse denied, stepping backwards and closing his eyes. "You were supposed to move with Helen and we were going to help you then, but –"

"How do you know my mom's name?"

Jesse's eyes snapped open. "I, uh," he stuttered. "Um, you, er… told me?"

I shook my head. "No I didn't." I scoffed. "God, you're even more of a stalker than I first thought." Gesturing between the two of us, I continued. "This – whatever it was – is over."

Turning my back, I walked out of the café. At least, I tried to. Jesse was like a dog with a bone. His hand clamped on my shoulder and he twisted me to face him, his lips falling over mine before I had chance to say anything.

And, can I just say? What a hell of a kiss it was. Seriously. Whatever I had to say about Jesse, that he was a bad kisser was not one of them. The only thing was, there was a hint of desperation to this particular kiss. His fingers dug into my shoulders, as if trying to worm in so far they'd be stuck, and his mouth on mine was unrelenting.

It was most definitely a goodbye.

My hands rose to wind around his neck before I realised what I was doing and pushed him away. He stumbled back with a curse.

"_Díos_." The Spanish sounded so darn hot in that accent of his. "_Querida_, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Whilst there were a number of retorts sitting on my tongue, ready to fire off at him, I remained silent, taking him in for one last time. His hair had gained volume – hours of running his fingers worriedly through it, I suppose – and his deep brown eyes were wide and inviting. I was going to miss him, I really was.

"I'm sorry Jesse." I turned and walked away again, but this time for the last time. "But you kind of brought this upon yourself."

* * *

Walking through the streets of New York, whilst simultaneously trying not to cry, is seriously a difficult feat. There's something about being vulnerable in this city that screams, "Hey, come hassle me."

Not that I couldn't look after myself if someone like, say, a mugger was to sneak up from behind. Years of ghost-butt kicking had trained me well. But I couldn't really attack the people on the streets giving out random flyers for clubs and hot dog joints opening across town. I'm pretty sure I could get arrested.

When I finally rounded on the corner to my apartment, it was as close to bliss as I was going to get any time soon and I practically ran up the stairs in my effort to curl up in bed with a movie and ice cream.

We all have our weaknesses. Mine was the deliciously glorious taste of Ben & Jerry's.

But when I let myself in, I wasn't alone. Both Paul and Mr. Ghostman were there. Well, James, I suppose.

Paul took one look at me – my red-rimmed eyes and my work uniform, which was so unlike me, considering I usually can't wait to get the damn thing off – and opened his arms silently.

It wasn't long before I was sobbing out the whole story to him as he wrapped his arms around me and whispered comforting phrases into my ear.

Seriously, who needs a fake-boyfriend from California who stalks you, knows your mom's name and hid the fact he knew you were a freak, when you have a Paul?


	9. What were you two thinking?

**A.N - I'm so sorry for the delay in updating. Note explaining stuffs on my profile. But yeah. Just so you guys know, I'm no where near done with this story. I just thought of a wicked (in my opinion) twist. I'm liking it.**

**Anyway, hope you're still with me. I'd love to hear from you. xD**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

"**What the hell were you two thinking?"**

Darn it. I should have known something was going to happen. There I was feeling so sorry for myself, because the guy that I was halfway to falling in love with shared my freaky gift, and crying on Paul's shoulder. Who, yeah, also shares my freaky gift.

I was trying to figure out how to explain to Jesse that I see dead people – totally like that little kid from The Sixth Sense – and he tells me that he knew already. And I get pissed?

Sheesh, what is wrong with me?

Well, I suppose Jesse did lie to me. And he was planning on getting close to me before we even met. So I can't be sure that he likes me for me, or because some priest three thousand miles away told him to like me.

But…

I don't know if any one else has noticed this or whatever. But, Jesse is pretty hot. And _Spanish_. How am I supposed to stay mad at that?

So I jumped out of bed – where Paul had placed me carefully after I'd run out of tears and he'd high-tailed it pretty quickly out of there. Too girly a moment, I'm thinking – and started to pull on my denim jacket when I got a phone call.

From the police.

_We have a gentleman in here by the name of Paul Slater. _

Idiot.

But, yeah. I should have known. Paul can be entirely too overprotective sometimes.

* * *

The first thing I noticed was that there was another man in the cell with Paul. The second was that both of them were bruised and bloody. The third, and final, thing was that the other man was none other than Jesse de Silva.

"What the _hell_ were you two thinking?"

I couldn't help myself. It just kind of blurted out.

"It was his fault."

"He started it."

Their simultaneous replies were almost comical with their similarity. You know, if they weren't incarcerated.

"_Querida?_" I stiffened at his voice. How could it still affect me like that? I was mad at him. Stupid body reactions betraying my mind. "I'm sorry. I lo-"

"You," Paul interrupted with a snarl and a shove. "Do _not_ get to speak to her. Let alone say that."

Wow. Go Paul. And there I was still reeling from the possibility of those three little words being said.

"What happened?" My words clearly dismissed them both, and by the sheepish looks they gave each other I don't think I want to know.

"As I said," Paul grumbled reluctantly. "It was his fault."

* * *

"_That stupid Spanish …" his insult trailed off, his fists clenching as he thought back to the sight of his best friend crying, mascara clumped and black smudges beneath her eyes. Crying over _him_._

_It didn't take Paul long to find him. He hadn't travelled much further away from the diner._

"_You!" He shouted. "What the hell did you do to Suze? She's at home, crying, barely able to string together a coherent sentence."_

_Jesse's eyes fell shut with a groan. Díos. He'd made her cry._

"_I'm talking to you, De Silva!" Paul's anger was fast overtaking all rational thought._

"_It's none of your business what I said to her, Slater." Jesse glared at him. "It's between me and her."_

"_Suze is my best friend." Paul seethed. "You mess with her, you have me to deal with."_

_Jesse's eyes narrowed, his scar shining prominently in the streetlight. "Or are you just jealous that I'm the one she's been dating?"_

_He didn't know where that came from – Jesse was the kind of person who never provoked fights. He was the peacekeeper. But with Paul Slater screaming at him with the current knowledge that he'd made Susannah cry. He'd hurt his querida when he had sworn that he never would …_

_Paul's reply was simple enough, really. He had clenched his fist, cocked it back and hit Jesse's nose with enough force to draw blood in all of three seconds._

_Wasting no time, Jesse countered with his own hit, a fist to the stomach, which had Paul, doubled over, breathless._

"_I love her, Paul," Jesse tried to reason. "I never meant to hurt her."_

"_Yeah, well," Paul panted, trying to regain his breath. "You did."_

_Stemming the flow of blood from his noise with one hand, the other went to help Paul up. Fighting was not in his nature._

_Paul accepted the gesture, ready with another hit for when he was steady, only Jesse was faster and quickly sidestepped, leaving the wall as a target._

_The curse that followed was loud enough to be heard by practically everybody in the surrounding neighbourhood._

"_Fuck," Paul cursed again, his limp hand curled protectively against his body. "You're going to pay for that."_

_He advanced on the other man, ready to fight._

_Which, of course, was when the flashes of red and blue washed over the both of them, and a policewoman interrupted them, slapping handcuffs around Jesse's wrist as her partner came to tend to Paul._

_Less than an hour later, Paul's hand had been bandaged up; Jesse's nose had been checked over; a phone call had been made; and the two sat solemnly side by side in a cold, metal cell._

* * *

Looking, now, I winced at the sight of blood – dried a copper brown – that stained Jesse's light shirt, and the thick plaster that surrounded Paul's wrist.

"Idiots," I repeated out loud, shaking my head. "Both of you. Fighting over me? God, if you're going to fight about anything, choose something more important, would you? Like, I don't know, who can down a beer the fastest?"

"_Querida_, no." Jesse stood up, rushing to the bars that separated them. The bruising around his nose glowed a grotesque purple. "You _are_ important. I admit it was stupid of us to fight. But there is nothing more important to me than you."

"_I love her, Paul."_

"I understand that you most probably hate me, right now. And I don't blame you." He continued, his brown eyes wide and imploring with nothing but sincerity shining in them. "I'd hate me too. But I promise you, _querida_, I may have come here because of Father Dominic and your mother, but I stayed here for you. Because I lo-"

For the second time, he was cut off in his revelation to me. I didn't need to hear the words. They were true; any idiot could see that.

I mean, sure, it's fast. Two dates anyone? But hey, when you know, you know, right?

So, this time, it wasn't Paul that cut him off. But me.

Because, and I will so regret this later, I ran head first to the bars that separated us and pressed my lips to Jesse's. Admittedly, it was uncomfortable – very, _very_ much so – but this kiss even beat our goodbye kiss all of a few hours ago.

There was just something about this Jesse guy that meant I couldn't keep my hands off him.

But I sure as hell wasn't complaining.


	10. Like here but with better weather

**A.N - Sorry it's been so long (since February - ouch). I didn't mean for that to get so out of control. But I finished school today. So that little thing commonly known as homework does not bother me anymore. Unfortunately, that BIG thing known as revision does. In a big way. Rest assured this story will be completed though.**

**Even if I have yet to figure out so of the more major plot holes. Bear with me with this guys. I did warn you of an evil (in my mind, anyway) twist. This is it. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

"**Like here but with better weather."**

"You know, Jesse," I began hesitantly. Crazy as I was to ruin this perfectly happy snuggle-fest in the corner diner booth before my shift started with some kind of meaningful conversation about where this relationship was headed, sometimes it just has to be done. "I've been thinking. What if I applied to a Californian college?"

I felt Jesse tense behind me from where I leaned against his chest and hastily continued. "I was just thinking, you know, that your family might be missing you and it would be kind of nice to see my mom again."

"You've been planning to go to NYU for ages, Susannah." Jesse replied. "I don't want you to pass that up for me."

Shrugging, I turned to face him. I could practically hear the second hand on the clock ticking closer and closer to the beginning of my shift, taunting me with the fact that time was running out. Soon I'd have to … work. Ugh. If it weren't for college and the fact that it costs, you know, a lot of money, I would so quit.

"I can go to school anywhere I want, you know." He smiled at me and pressed his lips to mine quickly, cutting off any and all thoughts and wirings to my brain. Stupid, brain-damaging kisses.

"I know, querida. And I can also live anywhere I choose, too."

I frowned, my lip jutting out in a pout. Jesse, in response, chuckled and gently pushed my bottom lip back to its normal, un-pouting position with his little finger.

"Now, I believe it's time for you to smile and serve drinks." A quick glance at the clock told me he was right. "I'll come back when your shift is over and walk you back to your apartment."

Nodding in acceptance, I walked over to the counter and watched as he left, the door opening and closing noisily behind him, and turned to wave goodbye. I smiled back at him, only turning to acknowledge my boss hovering behind me as he vanished from my sight.

"That boy," she tilted her head in the direction he'd gone, "is hiding something. Watch out sugar, there's a reason that he don't want to go back to California."

And, I really believe that she just may be on to something. Nobody wants to not go home that badly.

* * *

In the month since Jesse and Paul had spent their night in the slammer, neither of them had warmed overly much towards the other. In fact, whenever they were together, there's almost a blanket of resentment hanging in the air around them. I'm pretty sure the only reason more punches haven't been thrown is, well, me.

Now, though, August was readily gaining on September and I'd made a decision. A decision that probably didn't help Jesse gain any standing in Paul's affections.

"I can't believe you're actually moving," Paul complained from his rather _un_helpful position of lounging on my bed. "To the West Coast. Because of him."

Rolling my eyes, I started up on the conversation that Paul and I had had too many times to count. "It's not because of Jesse," I threw him a pointed look. "It's to –"

"See your Mom and Andy, I know, I know."

"Besides," I reached to pull out a cute-but-considerably-rumpled top from behind Paul and fold it into my suitcase. It's weird trying to pack your whole life up and then ship it to another state. Seriously. "Jesse doesn't even know I transferred yet. It's not his fault I'm leaving."

"You'd never have entertained the thought of California if it wasn't for him." Paul's mumble rang true enough so I studiously ignored it, just like anyone else would have.

"Okay, I think I'm done." I turned and smiled at Paul. "Now to tell Jesse my plan."

He smiled back at me sadly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small attempt at a smile. "I'm going to miss you Suze. Jesse doesn't know how lucky he is."

* * *

I'd expected shouting. A firm denial, maybe an argument and a resounding, "No, querida, I am not going back and that is final!"

I mean, turning up on your boyfriend's rented-apartment steps with two suitcases and a handbag complete with all your on-flight essentials – magazines, chocolate, water, make-up, you know, the usual – probably isn't the best way to break it to him that your moving across the country for college and, oh yeah, the classes start a week on Monday. An argument would have been likely.

A sigh and an acceptance were not usual. Especially coming from Jesse – the king of those of the opinionated race. Even when I told him I had booked two tickets for a flight that night, he just nodded with an overwhelming sense of scary-calm I had not seen before.

"Okay, querida," he whispered after kissing me on the temple. "We'll go home. Just … if everything's not the same over there, remember that I love you, okay?"

Yeah, we were saying that to each other nowadays. No more cutting each other off with very uncomfortable kisses through bars with your best friend and half a police force watching. It was better this way.

"Nothing's going to change," I whispered back. "I'll meet your family, you can meet mine and we'll be together. Like here but with better weather."

He didn't reply; his smile was tight and didn't reach his eyes. That twinkle that I'd grown used to was gone.

It was almost like he'd given up.

But on what? California? Me? … Or us?

* * *

"Susannah." I felt his lips press against my skin. "Querida." And again. "Wake up." The armrest was digging into my ribs: The downside to sleeping on an aeroplane.

Grumbling, I shook the sleep out of my eyes. "How long was I out?"

"'Bout half an hour," he shrugged, linking his fingers with mine and tugging the joined hands to rest in his lap as he idly drew a pattern on my palm with his finger. The sensation sent shivers up my spine.

"Jesse!" I complained. Loudly. People were glaring. "It's a five hour flight. Surely you could let me sleep for one or two hours?"

"I wanted to spend time with you." Something dark and troubling settled over his face. "Besides, we'll be landing in an hour. You would have had to wake up soon anyway."

"Could've had another half hour."

My protests died when I saw the serious look on his face. "Susannah," he said, his eyes gazing at me both adoringly and attentively. "Indulge me."

And really, how could I say no? The next hour was spent talking, whispering, kissing, and cuddling. Every possible couple-like gesture that could be done in public was done. It was amazing - glorious, even - and I felt so heart-warmingly loved that I believed that nothing bad could happen to us.

Until it did.

We'd been off the plane all of ten minutes before I felt the hand tightly locked around mine loosen its grip as the body it was attached to slumped towards the ground.

The world around me sped up: people were crowding around us, offering assistance; flashes of red and blue lights blurred at the corner of my eye as the airport emergency service team raced to the scene; and I took in none of it.

All I saw was Jesse. His face was pale, an almost sickly grey colour, and his hand was limp as I clutched it with both my hands. None of it mattered. The medical men pounding at his chest trying to revive his heartbeat weren't going to get one. The man trying to force air into his lungs wasn't going to make Jesse breathe.

Neither the silent scream that fell from my lips – mouthing his name – nor the tears that streamed from my eyes as I realised the truth were going to bring him back.

He was gone.


	11. Everything will be okay

**A.N - Hey, guess what guys? I've finished school! Seriously. No more exams, no more homework, no more nothing for eleven whole weeks. :D**

**Updates, anyone? :P**

**I hope you like this chapter. I do. It kinda wrote itself, so if it seems a bit jumpy that's probably why. But still, let me know what you think?**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

"**Everything will be okay."**

_"Mom? Mommy, I need you … No, I'm at the hospital … Nothing. Not with me. I'm in Carmel, mommy … Can you come and pick me up?"_

Unbelievable. Surreal. Not Happening. Pinch Me. Wake Up!

I wish those words were true. I wish that this was all some horrible nightmare and that, instead of sitting on straight-backed and uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs, I'm actually back home in Brooklyn, sleeping in my single bed.

I just couldn't grasp the thought that Jesse was now _dead_. And really dead. Not the ghostly hanging around because of unfinished business kind of dead. It'd been two hours since we landed in California and as of yet I hadn't spotted Jesse glowing out of the corner of my eye. Glowing, at least, would have been better than the pale sickly colour that lingered beneath his deep tan; the ashen colour that implies that all life has left a person.

The doctors told me my boyfriend had died of a heart attack. A heart attack. Jesse is – was only twenty. Young, fit, healthy and with a slamming bod that felt wrong to be thinking about now, but still true. There were absolutely no signs whatsoever, no hints as to what was to come.

It's almost as if Jesse's heart had just stopped; gave up.

"Suzie?" My mom's frantic voice was quickly followed by the rushed _click-clack_ of her shoes against the stark white sterile hall. Her steps were hurried and her eyes darted everywhere at once.

"I'm here, mom." My voice sounded weird. It sounded hoarse, like I'd been crying but I knew I hadn't shed a tear. I think I'm still in shock. It hasn't really hit me yet.

For me, dead never really means dead. People die – like my dad – but they come back later, hanging around and generally making mine and Paul's lives a pain in the backside.

Jesse was going to come back. He had unfinished business, damn it.

He had me. He'd _left_ me.

"Oh, Suzie." My mother cooed, the maternal instinct snapping in her as she folded me into her embrace. "Sweetheart, it'll be ok."

I didn't even realise that I'd started crying – silent sobs that wracked my body and forcibly distorted my shoulders – until I felt my mom's blouse dampen against my cheek.

If I felt it, then my mom must have. But she said nothing; her hand instead continued it's steady smoothing motion over my hair as she kept repeating the same mantra I'd been saying to myself before she arrived:

"It'll be okay," she whispered. "Everything will be ok."

* * *

Andy drove us home. Mom stayed with me in the backseat and even when we arrived at the house, he left us alone. Mom led me straight into the house as Andy trailed behind lugging my suitcase behind him. Jesse's was still in the car.

They'd made up a room for me when they first moved here. The canopy bed, walls and carpeting were all clearly my mother's choice and made no impression on me as I glanced, unseeing, around the room.

Only as my eyes encountered the small alcove cut into the wall, a window seat, did my eyes focus again. I swear that I saw that familiar pearly sheen that belonged to ghosts and ghosts only, the eerie glow temporarily filling my vision as I whipped my head around and saw nothing there.

My mom caught my action and smiled sadly. "Get some rest, honey. You've had a difficult day."

She waited until I was lying under the comforter before leaving, and I was left alone to think all about my difficult day - difficult being the understatement of the century.

Not even two hours ago we were on the plane, happy, laughing. I can't believe I wasted half the flight sleeping. He'd known something was going to happen to him; He'd woken me up.

_"Susannah. Querida. Wake up."_

I could hear the whisper of his deep voice now.

_"I wanted to spend time with you."_

I shut my eyes against the memory. He really had known. And he didn't tell me.

Anger boiled within me, hot and potent, the feeling spreading along every nerve in my body and forcing my fist to clench in preparation of hitting something. Anything. The wall would do.

Punching the same spot until my knuckles were bloody, the wall was chipped and my arm was just about numb, I finally stopped with a loud sob wrenching from my lips.

Cradling my bruised and bloodied hand, I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

I woke up to the feeling of another presence in the room watching me. I know what it sounds like, and if I wasn't so depressed and my boyfriend of oh, just about two months, hadn't had a heart attack, I probably would have cracked some lame joke by now. As it was, I remained still, like I was still blissfully wrapped up in my world of unconsciousness, and waited.

The ghost was perfectly quiet, perfectly still; obviously, whoever it was had died a long time ago and had more than enough time to master their ghost powers. It wasn't even breathing like the newer ghosts are prone to do, forgetting that they don't need to breathe now that they're dead.

They were trying not to wake me up. Which, of course, had every single spider-sense in me tingling. They were up to something, the ghost that was haunting my room.

I focused on keeping my breathing steady and natural, as well as making sure my eyelids didn't flicker beneath the bright moonlight streaming in through my window. The ghost, as far as I could tell, was just watching me. (Which, by the way, ew, creepy much? This is so not my day).

The silence that engulfed the room amplified every sound, so when the ghost raised his hand, I heard the soft swish of something non-corporeal cutting through air. Next, there was a slight pressure on my cheek, the softest of touches. It felt as though someone was tracing a feather along my jaw line.

But the feelings it elicited in me were recognisable – only one person could cause my skin to shiver and tingle with electricity that way.

Gasping, I opened my eyes and caught the sharp movement of a ghostly hand rising to cover his – the ghost was definitely male – face before he dematerialised.

"Jesse." His name left my mouth almost involuntarily, as a whisper as my tired eyes sleepily glanced around the room, looking for The Ghost. Sighing, I gave up. "I need you so much right now Jesse."

I had closed my eyes and was on the brink of oblivion once again when I heard it, so faintly that I might have already been asleep, and was just imagining Jesse's voice as it whispered just five words.

"_I need you too, querida."_


	12. I blame the grief

**Chapter Twelve**

"**I blame the grief."**

"Susie, honey?" My mom called through the thick wood that made up the door. I'd learned to love that door – that and the old, rusty but still-functioning lock. Both worked to keep me locked in my room, away from the sympathetic smiles and understanding looks of my mom and her new family. All of them claimed to know what I was going through, my mom having lost my dad and Andy and his sons having lost his wife and their mother. But, with Jesse, it was different. No one could possibly have known the heart-wrenching despair I felt just over thinking back over the past summer. "Someone's here to see you."

"I don't want to see him," I called back petulantly. "I want to be alone."

I knew who it was, of course. Some Catholic priest by the name of Father Dominic had rung the house an alarming number of times, asking for me, saying that he could help me. I didn't need a stranger telling me how best to cope with grief, or that Jesse was in a better place.

Another knock came on the door. "Suze?" This voice was masculine, familiar. "Let me in?"

Quickly, I forced the sticky lock open and flung open the door, throwing myself into the arms of my best friend, my tears quickly soaking his shirt.

"Paul," I sobbed, throwing composure out the window. "Jesse … he … he's –"

"Shh, Suze," he pressed his lips to my forehead as his strong arms banded around me, hugging me close. "I know. I'm here to help you through this."

I don't know how long I stood there, crying my eyes out and breathing in the scent that made Paul, Paul. His hands were slowly rubbing my back in slow, soothing motions as he whispered soft assurances into my ear.

Eventually – and don't ask me how, I have no idea – I pulled away and took a step backwards, forcing myself not to cringe at the sight of me in the mirror.

My hair was a mess, my eyes bloodshot and the skin around them burnt pink from the onslaught of tears. I was wearing my most slouchy clothes: hot, I was not. But I figure, who am I trying to impress? With Jesse … _gone_ my love life was officially over. I didn't want anyone else.

"Thank you, Paul." I whispered. "For being here. I need you right now."

"That's why I came," he smiled but it was strained; his eyes betrayed his worry. "I'll always be here when you need me."

A hazy glow appeared at the corner of my eye, the sight familiar enough not to warrant my notice. Since Jesse had died, my hysterical mind kept conjuring up images of Casper the very anti-social ghost. Every time I turned, my breath caught in my throat and my heart skipped a beat, hoping that this time would be the time I'd see Jesse's face again. But every time the ghost covered his face and disappeared before I got a good look.

The most I could gather was tight black trousers and a swish of a flowing white shirt before the ghost shimmered into nothingness.

"Uh, Suze …?" Paul's calm hands froze and his arms tensed up around me. Frowning, I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows in a question. The ghostly glow vanished. "Nothing, I just thought I saw …" he shook his head. "Nothing."

"Paul," I spoke quietly and pathetically, if I do say so myself. I never thought I'd sound like this. Ever. I was totally kick-ass back in New York; I'd never heard of the word pathetic, in conjunction with myself. "Please don't leave me. Don't go."

"Susannah," my full name was usually only said when coloured with Jesse's Hispanic accent and tears welled in my eyes at the memory. "Suze," Paul tried again after catching my expression. "Always. I promise. I'll never leave you." He tried to smile again but his effort was weak. Clearly he didn't know how to act, just as much as I did. "There's no getting rid of me that easily."

* * *

Thirteen days. Just under two weeks. Had it really been that long since I'd last seen Jesse? Last spoken to him? And today, we were burying him.

I say we; I thought there'd be more of a turn out. Apparently Jesse's family couldn't be contacted, no one knew them and Jesse had had no health insurance of any kind. No next of kin listed. Maybe that's why he didn't want to come home. Didn't want to return to the lonely isolation.

Maybe his family had disowned him? Maybe they'd all died?

"Suze," Paul's soft voice brought me out of my spiralling thoughts. We were alone, now, in the small cemetery behind the Mission Church that doubled up as a school. "Suze, are you ready to go?"

My eyes, of their own compunction, fell on his gravestone and the mound of disturbed soil just in front of it.

_Hector de Silva.  
__Known to his friends as Jesse.  
__Beloved Son.  
__Beloved Brother.  
__Beloved Friend._

Under that his dates of birth and death were listed.

I couldn't help the irrational anger that raced through me. It just didn't make sense. If Jesse was so _beloved_ - and he is, he was - then why weren't his family here to mourn? To grieve? Why did I feel like it was only me who cared about him?

Well, me and Father Dominic, who'd taken the service and – surprise! – pulled me aside to tell me, yet again, that he needed to speak to me in private, that he could help me.

"Look, Father," I'd said tiredly, raising my heavy eyes to his own. "I appreciate all of this, I really do. I just really need to be alone at the moment."

"Of course," he'd stated with a firm nod. "I realise that. It's just that, I owe Jesse a favour and I know that he'd want you to speak to me. You see, I knew about his _gift_."

Intrigued though I was, I shook my head. "I'm sorry. Maybe ... another time?"

I'd walked away before he had the chance to say anything else.

"Suze?" Paul attempted again. "Can we go now? It won't do you any good to stay here all night."

He was right, of course. Paul always was. He was my rock.

Holding out my hand for his, I smiled when I felt his warmth seep into me. His strength support me. "Yeah," I nodded. "We can go."

* * *

I don't know what came over me. I'm blaming it on the grief – it can do terrible things to a person. And when that person has someone as nice, as caring and as good-looking as Paul Slater comforting her, well, then …

I blame the grief.

But for whatever reason, when we arrived back at the Ackerman house, and had locked ourselves in my trusty bedroom, my haven of the past two weeks, I pretty much stopped just short of jumping him.

My arms wound around his neck as I pulled him harshly down so that our lips collided forcefully. Taking quick steps backwards, I dragged Paul with me until I fell onto the bed, Paul landing on top of me with an _oompf_.

"Suze, I don't think you should be doing this," Paul began to object but I was way past rational thought. All I knew was that I wanted – needed to feel something other then sadness and depression. I wanted someone to make me feel _alive_.

In answer to his statement, I pulled his lips back to mine. They were nice lips. I wonder why I hadn't thought of kissing him before.

Oh, right. Because I had Jesse. Obviously this whole losing myself in someone else thing wasn't working as well as I'd planned.

So I brought out the tongue. I blame the grief.

My fingers nimbly went to his shirt, undoing his buttons as quickly as I could as Paul broke away from me with a gasp, asking one more time. "Are you sure?"

Nodding hastily, I undid the last button and ran my hands up to push away the shirt as Paul brought his lips back to mine.

Before he wrenched them away just as quickly.

And threw himself across the room.

Dazed, I realised the ghost was back. And, apparently, pissed.

Judging by the way he was pounding my best friend's face in with a few quick, powerful punches, at least.

"Stop!" The cry tore from my lips before I'd had the chance to register what was happening and immediately, the ghost stopped his beating. But he was still angry. He stood stiffly, his shoulders tight and wracked with tension. Every inch of this ghost – who was finally sticking around for once – screamed familiarity to me.

I knew him.

And only when I placed my hand hesitantly on his shoulder and the tension left his body, and he relaxed into my touch did I realise why.

Though, Paul realised first, being able to see his face and all.

"Jesse?!"


	13. Face it Jesse, you had your chance

**A.N - I really take a while to update. I'm sorry. I'm all over the place at the moment. Bad, bad times.**

**I've even messed up my update schedule to bring you this whopper of a chapter. It's a bit heavy. Proceed with caution. :)  
**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"**Face it Jesse, you had your chance"**

I have no idea _what_ I'm doing here. Especially after all that happened yesterday. Burying Jesse and then the … afterwards. I had bigger things to worry about then Father Dominic's stupid words to me at the most inopportune time ever.

"_It's just that, I owe Jesse a favour and I know that he'd want you to speak to me."_

I think I can safely say that Jesse would rather me speak to him than Father Dominic at this point.

"_You see, I knew about his _gift_."_

Three guesses as to what 'gift' that was. I'll give you a clue: I share it, and it's starting to seem more and more curse-like the longer I have it.

"Susannah?" One of the nuns that taught at the Mission addressed me. She was acting as a receptionist and behind her hung a huge crucifix, the figure of Jesus staring out with sightless eyes was enough to make me shudder. I jerked my gaze back to focus on her, ignoring the sight of her sympathetic smile. "Father Dominic says you can go in now."

"Thank you." I graced her with one of my best 'no-this-smile-isn't-fake-why-do-you-ask?' smiles and knocked on the door separating me from the priest, pushing it open at his command.

"Ah, Susannah," the wrinkles lining his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I'm so glad you came to see me. How are you coping with everything?"

"_Susannah, I … if this is how you choose to cope, then I won't stop you. Just … does it have to be so _soon_? I thought what we had meant more then that."_

_"Had being the key word, Jesse. You died. You're dead. You can't expect Suze to stay alone forever."_

_A sigh. "I know."_

Hesitating for just a moment, I smiled. "I'm okay. My dad died when I was younger, so it's not like I haven't been through this before."

And Jesse, like my dad, is still hanging around so it's like they haven't actually left.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

I shrugged.

The room was encompassed with a prolonged beat of awkward silence as Father Dominic folded his fingers into each other and looked at me. It didn't take long before I got angry and snapped at him. Priests are not exempt from facing my wrath.

"Look, I just came to ask you why exactly you owe Jesse a favour. And what his gift has to do with anything."

Father Dominic sighed and fidgeted restlessly. I cocked my head as I looked at him: For an old guy, he's sure not _bad_ looking.

"I was the one who asked Jesse to go out to New York and find you. He agreed and I promised him a favour."

I blanched. "I thought my mother sent Jesse after me?"

My reply was the slow, negative shaking of his head. "It made more sense to blame your mother, then a stranger."

Standing up, I turned an angry glare in his direction and worked myself up to the king of all storming outs. "Why?" I rasped through gritted teeth and barely restrained anger. House of God, and all that. "Why did you send Jesse out to me?"

"Because of your gift."

I froze. I hadn't told him that. There's no way he would have known about that. Jesse didn't know for sure, until that encounter with that ghost back in New York, which seems so long ago now. God, was it only two months ago? Oh, I mean, gosh. House of God.

Nodding curtly, once, I left the office – ignoring the frantic calls coming from Father Dominic beckoning me back – without even a word of goodbye. Was being rude to a priest a sin? I don't know. I hope not.

* * *

Paul was waiting for me when I eventually returned to the Ackerman household. Nobody knew where I'd gone; I just said that I was going out for a walk, and I wanted to be alone. It's not like anyone could blame me for needing that time to myself. Especially not Paul, who knew better then anyone that I needed to think.

"Hey, you." Paul greeted, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I turned to place a kiss on his cheek and saw the purple swelling around his eye and the red marks against his skin. _Jesse_ had done that to him.

"Hey. Have you seen him?"

Paul shook his head. There was no need for clarification. "Come on," he placed a kiss on my temple. "Let's go upstairs."

Upstairs – not to mention my room – was the last place I wanted to be right now. But I nodded and followed Paul, him leading with my hand clutched in his. Each step I took bathed me with horrible memories of the day before.

-x-

_"Jesse?!" Paul's confirmation of what I'd already suspected left me reeling in shock, tears instantly biting my eyes. "What …?"_

_His reply was instant and scathing. "Do you really think my business here is finished? Leaving Susannah the way I did?"_

_Slowly, he turned to face me. I could hardly imagine the sight I made. Hair messed, cheeks streaked ghoulishly with eyeliner-tinted tear marks, the bruised lips that accompanied major make out sessions. Hey, Paul and I had also been on our way to second base. My shirt was one button away from revealing all._

"_Querida," my breath caught at the endearment that fell from his lips and my heart froze at the depth of the hurt look in his eyes. "Susannah, I … if this is how you choose to cope, then I won't stop you. Just … does it have to be so _soon_? I thought what we had meant more then that."_

_"Had being the key word, Jesse." Paul interjected cruelly. "You died. You're dead. You can't expect Suze to stay alone forever."_

_A sigh. "I know."_

"_Why didn't you just tell me, Jesse?" However quiet my tone, the spiteful intent was gotten across pretty darn clearly. "Something was obviously stopping you from coming back to California, and you die not fifteen minutes after we land here? Why didn't you just tell me?"_

_His eyes sparked with anger now. Good. Anger, I could deal with. Hurt was entirely a new territory for me. "I was doing what I thought you wanted. You wanted to come back. With me. Why should I have stopped you?"_

"_I came back here for you!" I cried, tears beginning to overflow. "For you to see your family again. If I'd have known that bringing you here would kill you … I never would have come."_

"_My family are dead, Susannah." His voice was cold. "And have been for one-hundred and fifty years."_

"_Dead?" I coughed the word out in shock. "So I brought you here for nothing? I _killed_ you for nothing?"_

_For the first time since I'd seen it, I was thankful for the bed. I collapsed onto it in shock, landing heavily as the tears escaped in earnest, rendering the view in front of me a blurry, watery mess._

_I felt the familiar sensation of Jesse's rough hands cupping my cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the steady stream of tears and the touch of the pad of his thumb sent the same thrill of delight through me as it did when he was alive._

"_Your family have been dead for a century and a half?" Paul's voice broke up our reunion. "Well, that explains your outfit. What it doesn't explain is how you're alive now. Well, how you were alive."_

_Jesse's face froze in a mask of anger and he stood slowly, turning and pushing Paul until he was pinned against the wall. The contents of the surface of my dressing table crashed to the floor. "I don't think I hit you hard enough. If I had my way, you'd be unconscious."_

_Paul smirked. "It wouldn't erase the words _you_ said," he reminded Jesse. "I've never lied to Suze." He spat. "Not once."_

"_How about when you said that you only wanted to be her friend?"_

"_I did." Paul pushed Jesse away hard, Jesse ending up on the other side of the room due to the force of the unexpected action. "Now I want more. You're dead Jesse. What can you give her? Whatever you did to give you life again, don't even think about repeating it." Jesse's face was void of emotion. "You've hurt her enough."_

_With Jesse watching, Paul approached me slowly, calmly, holding out his hand and pulling me in for an embrace when I took it. I couldn't see Jesse's face. I don't think I wanted to. "Face it Jesse, you had your chance."_

"_If Susannah wants me to go, I'll go." Jesse's voice was firm. "Querida?"_

_The prompt brought tears to my eyes. I'd buried him today, the man stood talking to me swathed in a golden ghostly aura. I watched as his coffin was lowered to the ground and felt, again, all the pain and lingering hurt I'd felt the past two weeks. Every single tear I'd shed and every ounce of emotion I'd felt crushed me with their weight in that moment and I buried my face into Paul's shoulder._

"_Go." My voice was quiet, inaudible. _

_He heard it anyway. _

_I looked up and Jesse was gone but Paul was there, comforting me, as always._

_-x-  
_

And as he still is. We were sat on my bed in silence, Paul's arms banded around me as I leaned against his chest and stared, unseeing, in front of me as the memory washed over me again.

"Suze," Paul groaned. "More tears?" I shook my head, wiping away the offending drops. "I didn't think you could cry anymore."

"I didn't either."

The room grew quiet once again and I shut my eyes, hoping for sleep but it refused to come. In the end, I just pretended, in order to appease Paul. I didn't want him to worry about me; he'd already done so much.

Eventually, Paul unwrapped his arms and tucked my comforter over me. He stood up and glanced at me, brushing a soft kiss on my forehead before he hissed Jesse's name into the dark room.

The ghostly aura appeared almost instantly. "How can I help you?" And there, his voice immediately familiar and comforting if not, at that moment, sarcastic, was Jesse. He was sat idly on the window seat, one leg bent as the other trailed to the floor. His eyebrow was raised and he was looking damn gorgeous.

Okay, I peeked. And I planned on watching this whole thing.


	14. Explain the unexplainable

**A.N - I haven't been doing too badly on the update front. Just wanted to let you guys know that I've planned this through to the end now, so I should be quicker. Assuming work and stuff doesn't get in the way.**

**I also wanted to address the Paul issue? A lot of you kinda hated him for how he's acting. I'm guessing you think he's taking advantage? I didn't see it like that. As I wrote it, in my mind Paul is acting like a friend to Suze. Yes, he wants more, but he knows that she's in no position to give it at the moment and so when it comes to Jesse, he's just trying to protect his friend from more pain. **

**I'm sorry if you guys didn't see it that way, or took it differently or whatever. Just wanted to clear up my reasonings - we're all entitle to our own opinions.**

**Speaking of, let me know what you think? Things get explained and stuff. If you're confused, it will get explained more. I just didn't want information overload.  
**

**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen**

"**Explain the Unexplainable."**

"How can I help you?"

Gah. Jesse's voice. Hearing it now reminded me of when we were alone together, back in New York, and he'd whisper to me in that voice of how he loved me. It took considerable effort to maintain a regular breathing rhythm; I was supposed to be asleep here.

I guess it was a good thing that Paul had his back to me. Or maybe not, considering it meant that Jesse was facing me, I could sense every time his dark eyes flickered over in my direction. And every time they did, I felt the urge to jump up, wrap my arms around his ghostly figure and apologise for everything – even the parts that weren't my fault.

God help me, I love him so much.

"Cut the crap, Jesse." Paul snapped, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Tell me what's going on. None of this makes any sense and you know it. You're hiding something."

"Why do you want to know?" Jesse countered, walking around Paul so he was standing by my head.

_Breathe normally_, I reminded myself. _You're meant to be asleep, damnit._

Of course, with Jesse in such close proximity - the body that was so accessible to me a few weeks ago was _right there_ and I couldn't touch it - my heartbeat started racing.

"So you can tell Susannah everything?" He continued. "Explain the unexplainable and be the hero?" Jesse laughed, without humour. "You don't need to know, Slater. You have her now."

Okay, now I was less with the swooning and more with the anger. I was _not_ a possession. And as soon as I 'woke up' I was giving him a piece of my mind.

"No, Jesse," Paul sighed. "I don't have her." Scratch that. I'm giving both of them a piece of my mind. How dare they? Seriously? Are boys just like programmed with this stuff at birth? Regardless of century? "She still loves you – now more then ever; I'd have to be blind not to see it."

Jesse was smirking. I could _so_ tell. Still, I kept my face impassive as I felt his hand brush against my cheekbone softly and push a lock of hair behind my ear. This not having my eyes open think was killing me. It made me that much more sensitive to his touch.

"Maybe," he said softly, his eyes focused on me. "But you said so yourself yesterday, what could I ever give to her now? Susannah can't live her life with a ghost; I couldn't give her any of the things she deserves." He brushed his lips softly against mine and I couldn't help but let my eyes flicker open. Jesse was staring at me, his dark eyes glimmering with emotion.

"Hey!" Paul shouted, when he caught sight of us. "Don't touch her." Jesse was jerked backwards and I saw his angry expression just before I allowed my eyes to fall shut again.

"I'm never allowed to touch her again, Slater," Jesse seethed, "whereas you can have her in your life for as long as you live. I think I should get a last kiss."

"I think Susannah should at least be conscious," Paul countered, "and be able to make that decision on her own."

I clenched my fists under the cover. _Please don't tell him, Jesse._ I pleaded to myself, hoping that somehow – magically – it would get to Jesse. I wasn't asking for much. Not really.

I had the feeling that the second Paul knew I was awake, he'd be too busy trying to comfort me and keep me away from 'the man who caused me so much pain' – otherwise known as Jesse – to carry on with the conversation and I _needed_ to know why.

"You're right." Jesse's words sounded like they were rasped through clenched teeth. "I'll stay here all night then, and when she wakes up, you can ask her. If she agrees, I want you gone." Jesse's eyes narrowed at Paul, I could tell. I'd spent enough time with Jesse to learn his mannerisms. "Until then, I guess I better do as you asked me not-so-very-nicely to. I'll explain."

-x-

_Five Months Ago_

"Jesse!"

The call was unexpected, but he answered it anyway, appearing in Father Dominic's office a few seconds after the priest had stopped forming the word.

"Jesse!" Father Dominic repeated upon seeing him. "I hate to ask, I really do, but I need a favour." The ghost said nothing, merely raising a scarred eyebrow and prompting the priest to continue. "You know Helen Ackerman's daughter, Susannah? Well, I have her transcripts here; they're out of date, of course, but as you know she decided to remain in New York."

Jesse had known that. He'd waited impatiently for the room he haunted to become occupied once more, and waited in vain.

"I've been speaking to Mrs. Ackerman recently," Father Dominic continued. "And she's worried for the sake of her daughter. Apparently she's been in trouble with the police a lot more in recent days, due to unexplained behaviour."

"Unexplained behaviour," Jesse interrupted, "especially when it comes to you and me," he inclined his head at the priest, "tends to be explained with the supernatural."

Father Dominic nodded, gravely. "Exactly. And I've read through Susannah's transcripts. I believe she is a mediator – one of those who believe her gift is a curse – which is where you come in, Jesse."

"How can _I_ help?" Jesse asked.

"I need you to go to New York." He cut off Jesse as he opened his mouth to reject. It was impossible. Jesse was tied to one place, and one place only: Susannah Simon's bedroom in the Ackerman household. "I know of something, a ritual of sorts. It's the opposite of an exorcism, I suppose – manifesting, instead of banishing – and normally I would not condone it in anyway."

Jesse remained still, eyebrows furrowed as he took in what the man was saying.

"But," he continued. "I cannot drop everything and fly to New York to help her, and I think she'd respond better to someone her own age."

The ghost was ready to refuse: It was impossible, madness. But he stopped himself. He'd been dead for over a century and a half, with no signs of moving on to the real afterlife. He'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity to leave California, to live again even if only for a little while.

"Okay." Jesse agreed. "I'll help. Tell me everything I need to know."

So the Father did, between thanking him greatly and promising him a favour in return – no matter how big.

-x-

Silence rang through the room.

"Why'd you do it?" Paul asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching over abashedly. "Why did you say yes?"

Jesse shrugged. "To live, I guess." He turned to stare out the window. "I wanted to feel something again. One hundred and fifty years of forced solitude can get lonely, you know."

"So you did it," Paul continued. "You … humanised and came to New York and you helped Susannah control her mediating. At least, I'm pretty sure you did. There were less ghost ass-kickings after you arrived on the scene. Why did you stay?"

I held my breath, waiting for Jesse's answer. I was just a favour for another person; a problem to be fixed. Jesse fixed me … so why did he stay?"

"Paul Slater," Jesse hissed in anger. "You must be a bigger idiot than I thought. Why did I stay indeed?" He broke off and mumbled in Spanish. I caught the word for God several times. "Because I love her." He finally shouted into the silence. "How can you not know that?"

I heard his footsteps approach the bed and heard the soft thump as he fell to his knees in front of me.

"I love you Susannah." He whispered, kissing me again. I gave up all semblance of sleeping now and instead wrapped my arms around his neck, returning the kiss as he gently pulled me out of the bed and into his embrace. "I love you, querida."

"I love you too Jesse." I peppered his face with kisses. "So much. I'm so sorry, for everything."

"No, querida, I am. I should have told you, I –"

"Why California?" Paul interrupted, breaking up our moment. I was ready to shout at him, until I caught the pain racking his expression. I bit my bottom lip. I'd really messed this up. "Why didn't you die again after helping Susannah? Why wait until you landed back in California?"

Jesse pulled himself away from me, with great reluctance, before he answered. "My human presence was tied to New York," he explained. "New York was where I was supposed to be, so the ritual allowed me to live and breathe there only. When I returned to California, my purpose of living – for lack of a better phrase – was complete and technically, I should have moved on to whatever's next."

I wrapped my hand around his arm, twisting him back to look at me. As he did, I studied his features. Still so unbelievably sexy, but with the ghostly aura he almost looked like an angel. Something otherworldly, definitely. Tilting my head, I regarded him as I asked, "Why didn't you?"

His face softened. "Because of you. Because I love you." He told me, pressing a quick kiss to my nose. "When I was alive I found a new purpose for life – _you_. I can't move on now." He shook his head. "Not ever. Not without you."

Tears stung my eyes as I allowed him to hug me to him. I'd missed this. His hold, his embrace, his smell. Everything. I'd almost lost him forever, but now he was back. He was sent to help a stranger and it ended up being me. He fell in love with me. I fell in love with him. Some of this has to equal to fate, right?

It can't be just be a big freaky coincidence.

My eyes were shut and I was peacefully immersed in Jesse's embrace when I heard the door open and shut.

"Paul." I opened my eyes and found the room empty. "I have to find him, I have to apologise."

"Shhh, Susannah," Jesse pulled me back, kissing my temple. "He's upset now; more with me then you. You have to let him calm down a bit first, before you talk to him."

Slowly, I nodded, accepting, when I was suddenly hit with a thought.

"Jesse?" I asked slowly, my voice sounding dry as I did so. "What do we do now?"


	15. Maybe Father Dominic's right

**A.N - Um, hi guys. Remember me? I'm sorry. I moved on with the whole schooling system thing. I'm hating the a levels. They give me no time for anything else. Not to mention homework, driving lessons and my job. Ugh.**

**So, yeah. I hope you'll forgive me. And are still with me. :)  
**

**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen**

**"Maybe Father Dominic's right"**

"Remind me what we're doing here again?" I hissed the words through my teeth. I don't think the nun behind the desk would react well if I started talking to myself. The last thing I need right now is people believing I'm crazy.

"I told you, querida." It's all well and good for _him_. No one can see what he's doing. Or hear what he's saying. "We should talk to Father Dominic, let him know what's happened."

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall behind me. "I have the crazy feeling he's not going to like this."

I spoke a bit too loudly. The nun's attention was focused on me now, meaning that I absolutely could not respond when Jesse pressed his lips to my forehead, cheeks and lips. Especially not the lips. Considering, you know, my natural reaction is to jump on him and hit him with some twenty-first century girl kissing moves. Frenching the air isn't going to help.

"It'll be fine, Susannah." Damn his silky voice. Damn his kisses. All that time he spent hiding from me as a ghost was wasted. One kiss would have been all it took. I can't resist his sexy, Hispanic vibes. "We're together again, that's all that really matters." His lips lingered on mine.

Do. Not. Move. A. Muscle.

I drummed the thought through my head.

Don't focus on him.

"Querida," he drawled and I could practically hear his eyes twinkling with something that I can only describe as mischief. "Don't I get a kiss back?"

My eyes flickered open and narrowed in his direction. His face was looming in mine; a close up of Jesse De Silva's gorgeous face was better then any Hollywood Heartthrob you could ever name.

Luckily, I was saved the humiliation of showing Jesse just how much I wanted to kiss him back by Father Dominic clearing his voice.

"Yes, um, Susannah." He mumbled. "I can see you now."

I stood up, mortified. The receptionist thought I was crazy and a priest of all people caught me about to kiss the hell out of my one-hundred-and-fifty-years-dead boyfriend. With my cheeks burning, and Jesse's tingle-inducing, rich baritone of a laugh following in behind me, I walked into Father Dominic's office and sat down, staring determinedly at the floor.

"So, Susannah." Was that disapproval in his tone? I think it was. "What can I do for you?"

"Don't look at me," I blurted out, jerking my thumb toward the ghost behind me – who looked like he was enjoying himself way too much. "This is all him."

The second, however, Father Dominic's attention focused on him, Jesse sobered and became as serious as serious can be. It had a chilling effect on me. It's amazing what happens when you remember it's a matter of life and death, quite literally.

His fingers wrapped in mine as he took my hand. Looking up at him, I saw his brilliant white teeth as he smiled at me, warmly.

"I love you," I mouthed and his grin widened as he returned the sentiment with a squeeze of my hand.

"Jesse," Father Dominic sighed, noting our closeness. "What can I do for you then?"

"We need help." Woah, Jesse. Plunge right into it. I think I would have tried to soften him up a bit first. But that's just me. "Please. Make me human again."

The silence in the room pounded. It was practically suffocating. My heartbeat was racing in the interim, hoping against hope that he could help. That Jesse and I can have our happily ever after. We're fated - we have to be together.

I can feel it.

"I'm sorry, Jesse."

Just three words and Jesse had closed himself off. His face wiped of all emotion and he began shaking his head desperately, whispering 'no' under his breath.

"I can't, you know that." He smiled kindly. "You fulfilled your purpose with the ritual – you should move on."

"No!" Jesse shouted, turning his fury-filled face to Father Dominic's and gripping my hand tightly in a death grip. "I can't move on, Padre. Not whilst Susannah is still here."

Both men turned their attention to me. And, can I just say, I've looked better. My face was pale and my eyes wide and haunted-looking, I'm sure. I could even feel tears prickling at the corner of them. And I don't cry.

Everything was just so unfair. Paul wasn't speaking to me because I wanted to be with Jesse, and now Jesse and I can't even be together because this priest wouldn't help us. I suffered through the pain of his death for nothing.

I'm sure this is the part where I'm told 'life isn't fair' and to, basically get over it. So what? Life isn't fair. Love should be – All's fair in love and war.

And I love Jesse.

"Susannah," Jesse groaned when he saw me. "Querida, it's ok, don't get upset." He kissed me then. I returned it all too happily, enjoying the feel of his strong arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me closer to him. Gah, he still smelled so amazing. And his kisses will always be able to make my knees weak.

I love him, so much.

"Please, Padre." Jesse broke away from my lips and spoke to him again, hands remaining locked on the small of my back as he rested his forehead on mine and shut his eyes. "I can't move on knowing Susannah is still here, and will be upset. Don't tell me she won't be – I saw how she was after I died." He drew in a shaky breath before directing his next words at me. "I can't do that to you, querida. Not again."

Smiling weakly up at him, I swallowed through a knot of sadness in my throat. He's going to hate me for this. Really, truly, hate me.

"Jesse," I whispered, ignoring that Father Dominic was standing not two metres away and could probably hear every word I said. It was just Jesse and me here now. "Maybe … maybe Father Dominic's right. Maybe you should move on."

He opened his mouth to object and I kissed him to silence his words. I had to finish this.

"You were ready to." I reminded him. "When you were asked to come and help me, you knew that you'd move on when your work was done. You accepted that. You shouldn't hang around here just for me. I'll be fine. It'll take some time, yeah." I shut my eyes and fought the urge to cringe as a tear escaped me. Pesky little things they are. "And I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye yet, but I can be strong." My eyes opened and locked with his brown, disbelieving ones. "For you."

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

_I love you._

His calloused thumb rubbed a circle over my cheek, brushing away the stray tear as he smiled at me. "I love you," he told me. "I want to be good enough for you. You can smile that sweet smile of yours and blink your tears at me all you want, but I'm not moving on. Not without you. Sorry, querida. But you're stuck with me."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me with a sigh of relief. I was willing to be the stronger person, and give him the get out of jail free card. But I'm so, so happy he didn't take it.

Fated, just like I said.

He turned away from me, fixing his gaze on Father Dominic who stood watching us with a grave expression on his face. "Padre, I'm cashing in that favour you owe me."

"Jesse, I don't think that –"

"No." The word rang with a sense of finality. Jesse was putting his foot down. And it was _hot_. "You promised me, padre: 'No matter how big'. And this is what I want."

I could see Father D's eyes harden with determination. He was going to try to convince Jesse out of it.

I'd like to see him try.

"And the pain, Jesse? Do you remember that?" His tone was icy. I know he was trying to not disturb the balance of the universe and follow God's will and all that but at this moment, I kind of really don't like this man. I don't hate him. Not in a church, anyway. "The agony of reattaching your soul to your body? Is it worth it?"

"Yes." Jesse stood behind me, standing his ground, as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "_Claro_."

Then something weird happened; Father D's face broke out into a huge grin, softening his eyes and causing wrinkles to etch along his face, happily. "I'll help you then. I'm sorry for the hard time, you just have to understand…"

"Understand what?" I said. I'd been a bystander long enough.

He turned his attention to me. "For this to work, Jesse's soul has to be tied to something. Previously, it was to New York, which is why he died when returned to California." I nodded. I knew this; Jesse had told me. "I had to make sure that you really loved each other."

I looked confused. I knew that. Hell – er, I mean, _heck_, I am confused.

"I do. Love him, I mean."

Well, it's true. Besides, what else could I say?

"I know." Father D's expression turned serious again. I don't like it when this man turns serious. "And in order for this to work, Jesse needs to be tied to you, Susannah. Should you ever break up, or fall out of love for him, Jesse would –"

"Die." It was Jesse's voice that said it. "I'd die. Again. Wouldn't I?"

All Father Dominic could do was nod and I focused on him before my vision was blocked by the deliciousness that is Jesse's face.

"Well?" He asked. "What do you think? Do you think that you could love me forever? Until the day you die?"

Um, wow. I don't know. I haven't actually chosen a major yet.

"Because if you die, I die too. If I'm tied to you, then without you here I have no reason to be here either."

I was speechless. Dumbfounded. Susannah Simon had no idea what to say. Except …

"Did you just ask me to marry you?"


	16. I'd already lost him once

**Chapter Sixteen**

"**I'd already lost him once."**

_"Because if you die, I die too. If I'm tied to you, then without you here I have no reason to be here either."_

It's a sobering thought, knowing that you are the reason someone exists, that their life is in your hands. And if this was the case with anyone but Jesse, I could see myself running for the hills this very moment. But with Jesse, I could see myself loving him forever. Till the day I die.

It doesn't make the situation any less daunting though.

The worst part was that I couldn't help him.

I was just stood, both out of sight and mind, as Father Dominic spoke in Latin riddles, lit candles and incense. He chanted words I didn't understand; talking to a higher power I wasn't sure I even believed in. Not that my focus was on him.

In front of me, Jesse lay thrashing, pain convulsing his body as an eerie scarlet glow filtered down from the big red dome looming above our heads. Tears stabbed at my eyes – Jesse was suffering, for _me_, and I couldn't help him. I couldn't make the pain go away.

And it was all a result of my selfish desire to have him with me everyday for the rest of my life.

I didn't even know if the ritual was working – Father Dominic had said it was a risk. Jesse had already undergone all of this once, and survived. Twice may be pushing his natural body to the limit and leaving him suspended between this world and the next permanently – with no body, and no means of carrying on to the next stage.

The chanting had stopped, but the flames grew brighter and Jesse continued wrestling with the air. His ghostly glow was dimming and I didn't know if that was a good thing.

"Father Dominic?" I whispered, scared to interrupt what could possibly be an integral part of the ritual – heck if I knew, I'd never done this before. "Is everything … ok?"

His silence spoke volumes and I felt the tears escape my eyes as I shook my head in denial.

Jesse was dying. Again. As I stood back and watched, helpless.

_Again._

My eyes were riveted to the sight of Jesse's body, twitching less and less as he faded into nothingness.

No.

I wasn't let him go so easily this time. I'd already lost him once.

Without a thought, I pushed past Father Dominic and ran forward, throwing myself over Jesse. My left hand interlinked with his as my kisses intermingled with my tears over his face.

"No, Jesse," I sobbed into his chest. "Don't do this to me, not again." More kisses. His nose, his eyelids, his lips. "Don't leave me." His cheeks felt warm beneath my clammy hands. "I love you, Jesse."

Faintly, I head someone, probably Father Dominic, shout my name in horror and I started upright to see the thin, flickering candle flames grow to a roaring fire and trap me in the circle with Jesse.

It happened so quickly: the flames, the blinding light, the white noise. And I couldn't find it in myself to care. As long as I was with Jesse, and I could feel him beneath me – as palpable as a ghost can be to a mediator – it meant he hadn't disappeared, and with Jesse in the world, nothing could be wrong.

* * *

My head killed. Short stabbing pains behind my eyes, a low throbbing at my temples. I groaned. It felt like the world's worst hangover – not, I hasten to add, that I've ever been hungover. Because that would be illegal.

Something nudged at my lips, something cool and made of glass.

"Drink, Susannah."

I did as I was ushered – I was in no condition to argue. Besides, a nice glass of water was exactly what I needed.

"Is she okay?" A different voice spoke now, as lips pressed to my forehead.

Confusion made my already-painful head hurt. Open your eyes, Suze. Open them.

"She's fine." I grumbled, eyes blinking open before squinting through the sun gleaming through my window. "How'd I get here? Last I remember, I was …" instantly, I sobered. "Jesse? Where is he? Is he alright? Did it work?"

"Suze…" Paul's voice began. Wait a minute. Paul. He was angry at me. Why was he here?

"Paul? Is that you?" I mentally kicked myself. Stop with all the questions. "What are you doing here?"

Okay, fine, one more won't hurt.

"Shh, Suze," I blinked up at him. He blurred for a moment, a tanned blur with darker hair and streaks of highlights. But he was stood over by the door. Which means someone else was in my room. "You've been out of it for a while. You're such an idiot I could wring your neck, but you're okay. And that's all that matters."

I grumbled again. Seriously, what was up with this headache from hell? All I did was throw myself in the middle of a risky ritual. Pain wasn't in the equation. For me, anyway. Jesse suffered a lot.

I tried again. "Where's Jesse?"

Paul didn't say anything and my heartbeat raced, pounding against my chest. It didn't work. Jesse was gone.

Unbelievably, I started crying again.

The other presence in the room was instantly at my side, strong hands brushing away the tears from my cheek.

"Susannah," a man whispered. "Calm down. I'm fine. It worked."

I recognised the voice, I could hear the smile in it, the relief. His voice was shaking from suppressed tears of his own. I didn't believe it though. Not until I heard one particular word leave his lips.

"Querida, it's me."

Frozen, I finally looked him in the eye and saw his warm hazel ones smiling back at me, a sheet of tears pooling under his eyelids. It was Jesse – really, truly Jesse. Without the ghostly glow I'd become accustomed too. I could see the pink in his cheeks again; see the vein on his neck pulsing. I could see his chest taking in breaths -all little, inconsequential things that told me that Jesse was here, in front of me, and _alive_.

His name fell from my lips in a whisper as I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him in a way I'd forgotten how much I loved. And he really was an amazing kisser.

"Oh, don't mind me." Paul interrupted. "I'm happy here watching, really continue."

I broke away from Jesse's lips to roll my eyes at Paul – ignoring any and all pain that still panged behind my skull. "Oh, ew, Paul." I smiled at him, and saw his eyes narrowed in restrained anger. So, I'm guessing I'm not entirely out of the woods.

Jesse pulled me back, ignoring Paul's scoff and teasing me into a deeper kiss, only breaking apart when his need to breathe overtook him.

"I'm sorry, Susannah," he whispered. "We were so worried. I'm so glad you're alright."

"You're glad I'm alright?" I countered. "Jesse, last time I saw you, you were fading away into ghostly nothingness. What on earth happened back there?"

They exchanged looks, Jesse and Paul, before they began talking simultaneously.

"You saved him."

"You almost killed yourself, you idiot!"

Paul shook his head. "Honestly, Suze, what were you thinking, running into that circle like that?"

Jesse smiled a watery smile at me. "You're the reason I'm still here."

Colour me confused. "Okay, this Tweedle Dee/Tweedle Dum routine is hurting my head." I looked up at both of them, standing there with similar expressions of concern etched into their features. It really is funny how guys can go from hating each other to fraternal solidarity in the blink of an eye. Or over a period of a few days and a long, painful sleep. "Explain it to me slowly, please?"

"I was dying, Susannah," Jesse began, taking my hand and staring resolutely down at his finger tracing circles in my palm. "More so then just lingering here in my ghostly form."

"What changed?" My voice was quiet, scared.

"You went barrelling across a magic boundary and sacrificed yourself is what happened!" Paul's outburst was coupled with the tightening of Jesse's fingers around my own.

"Remember what Father Dominic put us through? Making sure we truly loved one another –" Paul made gagging noises. "- before he'd go through with the ritual?" I nodded mutely. "It wasn't enough. The ritual wanted proof."

"So when I broke through the boundary, I proved my love for you?"

It didn't seem like it to me. Then again, I'm likely to have a concussion.

Jesse smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "You were willing to die to be with me." His lips met mine. "That's proof enough for me."

I returned his kiss. "So, it's over?" I was the queen of questioning today. "We can finally be together?"

"Yes, querida. We can."


End file.
